#weeping angles chocolate
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now you’ve got me thinking about reader giving husband bakugou a handjob in the car after their cutesy little date, and he’s just fucking throbbing because of the ring on your finger while you stroke him………..
SCREAM YOU GET IT BISC
The entire date is easy, domestic, just shared talk about plans for tomorrow or gossip you picked up while scrolling on your phone during the drive over.
As per tradition you both order something different just to split the portion down the middle and share the other half. Although fair shares in dessert is different, Bakugou makes his cut smaller knowing how much you love sweets while he cares for spicy. Giving a cocky smirk but his eyes are that of his soft smile, really taking you in as you dance in your chair from the first bite of the overly rich chocolate dessert.
So by the time the two of you get to the car he doesn't remember his little tease. He was only half joking but there were times he's man handled you into the back seat to bend you at painful angles to finger fuck and lick you in.
He gets the passenger door for you and leans down to give you a kiss before he rounds the car while you bite your lip.
Maybe this time you'll catch him by surprise.
Letting him get half way down the road before your left hand slips onto his thigh. Nothing new, it's very innocent considering it's a habit of his you picked up. Gripping the others thigh just for comfort.
But what is new, least while he's driving, is your manicured claws dancing up the inseam, tracing the outline of his cock while he glances down at you in a glare.
"Oi, princess. Don't start what ya can't finish."
"Oh I know I can finish this." Your voice is sultry and sinful, no where is your playful tease before you stop. No,no you continue. Teasing him until his painfully hard under his nice dress slacks, angling yourself so that he can get a good view down your shirt, pushing your tits together with your arms as you slowly undo his zipper.
"Sweetheart." He gives a warning bite that you don't heed. Pulling him from the confines of his pants and boxer briefs, the tip weeping silvery pre.
Your thoughts of hand job quickly go to head before Katsuki is fisting your hair, forcing you to look up at him.
"Remember what happened last time baby?" His voice a mix of concern and agitation. Like he wishes he didn't have to be the voice of reason but putting your life in danger, a second time, wasn't worth cumming down your throat. Besides he could have you on your knees for him any time.
"Well..." You flash your ring at him, knowing he often looks at it before pouncing onto you, wrapping your pretty hand around his cock to give a teasing pump, "How about this?"
His groan is his answer and he slowly releases your hair, forcing himself to focus when he knows you're going to end up edging him for the better part of the hour.
Changing your pace exactly how he likes and gripping him just right. Making sure your ring is facing him before you lewdly let spit drip from your tongue to his cock for more lubrication.
His eyes flutter and he groans again, forcing himself to focus even as your cute hand jerks him off at 85mph. Increasing your speed when you see him bite his lip knowing he's close before his hand grabs onto your wrist tightly, leaving you gripping at the base of his cock.
"Don't make me cum." He pants, sweat on his brow and hair a mess from how he pressed his head against the car seat, yet still he looks as if he's in charge. Smirk on his lips, malicious gaze in his eyes,
"Cause I gotta make sure I stuff my wife full tonight." He leans closer, eyes still on you before he whispers in your ear, tapping his ring against yours in the same rhythm he was fucking you in earlier.
"Then I can lick my wife clean til she begs me to stop."
This time you know he won't forget his teasing remark because this time it's more than a threat, it's a promise.
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Febuwhump prompt >> February 5
“that’s gonna scar”
leverage | 1,177 words | peliot
warnings: none needed as far as i can tell except there is a very brief mention of blood at the start
~ honestly i very much intended to complete more of the febuwhump prompts but this past month did not go at all as planned, so i’m just editing the ones i have and posting each one as i get through them. just so you know, they are not meant to be grammatically correct. in fact i promise you none of them are. probably. hope you like this one!!
—x—
parker stared at her arm, at the gash that seemed deeper every moment blood welled up and spilled from her veins.
what did i do?
eliot was angry, that was certain. he fell to his knees in front of her frozen form, growled at the weeping cut and snarled into the comms that he was with parker, that he was taking care of her even if she had fucked up…
but when parker flinched, just a tiny jerk of her head, cursing herself internally for the reaction (he won't hurt her, he wouldn’t do that to her) eliot’s flicked his eyes up, cataloging her movement. his voice lowered, now a soothing rumble murmuring ‘sit still, this won’t take long’ and his stance softened, less sharp shoulder blades and yanking hands, less hard angles. she couldn’t complain when the hydrogen peroxide was soaked into the wound, after all it was her fault, and it wasn't as if she hadn’t poked eliot’s injuries many a time before. (for a second she almost felt bad, but there was no point. she was mostly just interested in his reaction anyhow, as always, just to see how people really worked. to see how he worked. it wasn’t like she hadn’t felt worse before, and recently too.)
his coarse fingertips brushed over the unblemished skin on her arm, wrapping a strip of gauze around the wound, and she finally raised her eyes for a single moment. his bowed head had the mat of hair covering his expression, but parker couldn’t doubt he was still angry. she had jeopardized the mission, she had injured herself..their thief, their asset, their plan, and yet…
“parker. hey. parker!”
she found her head lifted by a gentle, calloused hand, and so her mind from the grim thoughts that followed her everywhere no matter how she tried to avoid them, outrun them.
light blue eyes coaxed deep blue skyward and parker finally relented, but not without closing the doors to all her favorite moments with the team. all her happy memories pushing hardison off buildings, dragging sophie through festivals, pestering nate about people things, slipping into eliot’s apartment on those dark, cold, bad mind days where it didn’t matter what the sunset looked like from her favorite skyscraper views, she couldn’t bear to watch it alone.
because this time, the next time, the next after that. what if she wasn’t enough? or what if she was too much? what if her mistakes told them she wasn’t needed anymore, what then?
even after all those times, startling eliot in his kitchen, makeshift gym, roof garden…no longer being able to scare the so-called invulnerable hitter because he learned to read her unspoken cues, her expressions and behaviors and the cases that hit hardest. he knew where she’d be. would it matter now?
he’d leave a glass of chocolate milk for her the days he knew she wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t even let him see her there but he knew she was somewhere in his apartment, curled up and mentally comatose. chocolate milk he only bought for her, because he knew she liked it. other, better days they would sit together on the sofa, almost mindlessly watching some sports channel except that parker would vibrate with contained confusion and energy until she couldn’t take it anymore or eliot prompted her to ask her hundreds of questions of why? how does that work? and who came up with that terrible idea? why don’t they just…
if she was lucky and she stuck around all night, whether on the couch, tucked away in the linen closet, or hung upside down from the ceiling harness setup eliot begrudgingly allowed her to add to the gym, he’d cook for her in the morning. a warm omelet or sweet, tender blueberry muffins with just the right amount of crumble topping, and neither of them said so, but both their days were made all the better for it. (one time, she thanked him, just a ducked head, a quick word before she vanished into the city. she barely caught eliot’s small smile before she rounded the corner; they both knew she wasn’t only talking about breakfast. for once, someone knew what parker was thinking, even when she didn’t, and she knew what they were thinking. it was usually so hard, but with eliot, it worked. it almost made sense. and if she didn’t understand, he’d make it clear in short order. of course this was usually when he was angry, but still. he was a nicer sort of angry around parker and it meant something to her.)
the only time she was ever allowed in eliot’s bedroom was after a particularly rough case, when parker was silent and shaking and showed up on the doorstep but for once couldn’t make herself open the door. eliot had been waiting, and opened it for her. he was like that, making things easier to say and do, making it less trouble and effort to just be.
he’d given her privacy to get into a change of clothes, an old, soft t-shirt and loose pajama bottoms so well-worn they felt like silk on her skin. she stood blinking in the dim lamplight, then he led her to the bed where they lay, wrapped around each other, him whispering quiet words of comfort and safety and trust for the rest of the night and into the morning, when at dawn she’d slipped out. out of the solace of his arms and away, back into her world. he’d never notice his missing clothes anyway, or at least mention them, she hoped. she was keeping them regardless, because it wasn't like she wouldn't be back soon anyhow. maybe next week, when they could both pretend this had never happened.
now and then, eliot had let her help with his garden. she would work among the prized vegetables and spices, tend to the tomatoes and plant the okra, listening closely to him explaining the best way to choose the ripest peppers and strawberries, and smile just a little when he asked her to clip parsley and oregano for that night’s meal…she hadn’t known companionship like this ever in her life. then again, nothing had been quite like before since the team. since him. sometimes, it hurt and sometimes it scared her.
but when eliot smiled one of his rare smiles when she asked an oblivious question — one of those special ones he seemed to love — and even as he answered it, the amused laughter-lines on his face clearly said what he had spoken many times before (don’t ever change, parker) she finally heard what he’d been saying all along. i love you.
‘that’s going to scar,’ eliot said, voice soft, eyes searching.
parker knew not to question it, and still she had to ask.
‘but it’ll be okay?’
even now, barely calm, he nodded, all clear gaze and ready hands, though he knew she could catch her own fall. just in case.
‘yeah.’
and only for her, ‘it’ll be fine.’
—x—
lmk what y’all think (for real any and all comments are welcome) & thank ya for reading!! :D✨
@motionlessblackveilbride welcome to peliot. pardison is currently secondary…
#febuwhumpday5#leverage#peliot#parker#eliot spencer#whump#well okay i hope it qualifies#kinda fluffy too ig#i just love these two way too much#sometimes it ends up being a ship *shrugs*#febuwhump#febuwhump 2023
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Find the Word
It's find the word time again! I'm taking the open tag from @theskeletonprior to find day, black, chill, deft, and thick in my WIPs.
I'll also put out an open tag with the words jacket, blink, enough, star, and green.
Day
The Fourth Android
Anni dipped a piece of pretzel into its chocolate sauce as she studied Urma’s crossword. Like Julian, they did the newspaper crossword every day. Unlike Julian, they would sometimes ask for her help on the same day the crossword came out if they got stuck enough.
"Five down is wrong," she said.
Black
Triad (Aza's POV; bonus: this is Kirnus and Jas Jas)
Kirnus was calling for a bird called Jas Jas, which maybe wasn't a funny name in Swietse but sure sounded funny to her. Jas Jas had wobbly black stripes, and once Kirnus was on her back, he was able to see Aza's amused smile.
"Jas Jas hatched when I was seven," he said. "That's the only name she answers to now."
Chill Cold
Triad (Kirnus's POV)
He wandered along the water line, his wet skin going warm and then cold as the sea rushed over his feet, then withdrew and let the night air get to them. The air itself was warm and sticky, subjectively twice as humid as Enost. A full moon and a waning gibbous peered down at him, lighting the long coastline in greyscale. He wasn’t convinced coming out here was helping him think about things, but at least he was less likely to be found and interrupted out here than in his room. There was also space in the darkness for him to fully unreel his vast and tangled thoughts.
Deft(ly)
The Fourth Android
The book Jaccson held up, Blob and the Garden, had a picture of what looked like a round blue slime on the front, with two tall elliptical eyes and a purple flower growing from a pile of dirt on top of it. Dez could see why Lacey had dubbed him a blob, and he was prepared to like the idea more after this story. Jaccson deftly opened the book right to the first page and started to read.
Thick
Triad
Between the orchard and the corral fence, the ground sloped down to a little pond thick with the voices of frogs. Its only patrons were a weeping tree growing out of the bank at a forty-degree angle and a grey stone bench with green lichen for legs.
#writing#tag games#in my ancient drafts Julian used to be the Most Crotchety. now he just is stubborn about the crossword#every time I pull an excerpt from Triad I'm like hmm there were a lot of things wrong with this draft but...ugh it can be so satisfying#I'm staying focused on TFA for writing but expect to see more Triad-related stuff for ockiss#find the word#wip: tfa#wip: triad#c: Dez#c: Jaccson#c: Aza#c: Anni#c: Urma#c: Kirnus#excerpt
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nsfw
Your s/o asks you to have sex on the beach or while bathing in the sea.
⚠️ NSFW BELOW: 18+ ⚠️
"Now, now. This is no place to be indulging in any of your indecent fantasies. Unlike myself, your skin is quite susceptible to the sun. I wouldn't want to bite you when you've been seared to the touch." After laying you down flat on your stomach onto the beach towel, he reached for a bottle of sunscreen, lathering some on his hands. "Hm, I'd much rather mark you with my fangs here... but this will suffice. You can't possibly apply this on yourself without your master's help."
Gentle and serene waves washing against the shoreline sang a lullaby to your ears as Ruki splayed a moist hand against your back, cascading it up and down your spine in tantalizingly slow movements. The bikini covering your breasts had long been unhooked, bare mounds pressing into the fibers of the towel as he massaged the formula into your skin, using both hands to glide along your curves, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
"Ah, much better. Just a little more here, and..." a mischievous smirk curled on his lips as he lowered his hands down to your bikini bottom, tugging loose the string that cropped it up until the fabric fell lifelessly, revealing your glistening arousal and plump ass to him.
Without warning, Ruki softly kneaded your rear with his cold hands, a pleasant relief from the blazing sun that hung in the cloudless sapphire sky, reminiscent of the Vampire's beautiful jewels. If only you could see them right now from this position. Instead, you could only imagine the devilish features that eyed every inch of your exposed body, fully covered in sunscreen and leaving nothing to his imagination as always.
"...Done. It looks like you're finally ready for your master."
Gripping your hips tightly and aligning himself with your entrance, an unashamed moan escaped Ruki's lips as the large, round tip of his cock prodded your slick opening.
"Hnn... You're already so tight, and I haven't even pushed it all in."
Deep, smooth, and somewhat hoarse, his voice melted like dark chocolate with each inch of his shaft that impaled through the resisting pressure of your weeping core. Palm scaling up the spine of your back once more, Ruki pulled on a handful of your hair as he finally rammed all of himself inside of you, letting out a loud growl as he did so.
"Fuck... Don't squeeze me so much... You're gonna be a good girl and take all of me in," he moaned lowly. "Tell me... who is the only one who can fuck you like this?" With brutal thrusts, Ruki began pounding into your heat. "Tell me who you belong to, Livestock."
As his hips crashed into you, the soothing waves washing by were soon replaced with the most vulgar sounds ringing into your ears. From this angle, Ruki carved into your sweet spot so mercilessly, so fervently, so vigorously. With each collision, his rhythm became violent even, reminding you that no normal human could hope to bring you a fraction of the pleasure coursing through your body.
"Ahh... Such a good girl," he praised as he tugged on your locks with one hand, using the other to spank your elevated ass. "The truth is you want your master to fuck you for all to see, isn't that right? Otherwise, you wouldn't have even asked me to make a moaning mess of you on this beach right now."
It felt as if Ruki stirred and rearranged your insides to perfection with his enormous length, unfaltering and earnestly hammering into the deepest parts of your drenched cunt. Each time he moved in and out of your clamping tightness, he let out the most erotic and guttural moans better than any grand symphony or the nearby water.
"By the time we're done," he leaned forward to whisper in your ear as he took you from behind, "I'll be forced to carry you back to our room myself because these legs of yours will be unable to stand and walk properly. Haah... That's right, my good girl," another slap against your ass resounded as he drilled against your cervix without hindrance. "I can feel you getting even tighter... Cum all over my cock. Do it now."
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put on a show (you’ll enjoy)
cw : impact play, fear play, unhinged tendou, facefucking, pictures during sex, minor manga timeskip spoilers, if im missing any please let me know!
its always just been you, tendou, sex and a camera. what else would you need?
photographer! tendou & photographer! reader
1.5k words�� | all characters are 18+ mdni
You hear the shutter of the camera before you see it. Satori pulls the picture out from the ejector and begins to flap it in his hands gently with a wolfy grin on his face. You, of course, are the prey.
It’s late in Paris and the moon pours in from the little window you have in the corner. You kick his hip softly and nudge your head towards the window. “I don’t want another noise complaint,” Tendou grabs your ankle in his hand and traces his lips along the bone there. He lets out a breath-filled chuckle as he stares down your body.
A bruised finger runs down your pantie-covered slit. “Maybe I should photograph this instead,” He pulls you towards from, using your legs, and angles his camera towards you again. Your hands immediately go up to cover your face in embarrassment but the shutter of the camera doesn’t ring through the room as you expected. The only way you know Tendou is still with you is the feeling of his body holding your bottom half up, with his hand tracing your right thigh. “Take your heads off your face,” His voice is low. You pause for a second and then shake your head. “Now,” He says your name with a grovel that makes chills roll down your body.
The soft tracing on your thigh turns mean and you can feel his fingers grip into the fat of your leg there. “‘Tori,” you peak between your fingers. “Please.”
“Take your fucking hands off your face now. I’m not gonna repeat myself again,” Bruises to have already started to form on your upper legs. You bite your lip and hiss in pain as you slowly remove your hands from your face. You can feel the tears in your eyes start to spring up from embarrassment. If Tendou notices, it doesn’t seem as if he cares. “Look at you…” he trails as he brings his hand up to your face and gently caresses it. The camera is angled towards your face and the picture is taken. He sets it to the side, out of harm’s way, and then turns his full attention towards you. “You…” Hands rub up and down your inner thighs and you feel your heartbeat start to speed up. “Are so beautiful. My sweet, sweet…” He sets your legs down and pushes himself to brace his body over yours. He leans in towards your ear. “Sweet little girl,”
He grounds his hips into yours and you feel his steadily rising bulge. Your breath catches and your eyes fall shut. You’re wet and you both know it. “What’s this?” He asks, grinding harder. “Did me being mean make your little pussy weep?” That wolf grin of his is back.
When you met Tendou years ago at his little chocolate shop, you were new to the city. He showed you around, and let you hang around him like a lost puppy dog until you got into the swing of things in Paris. By the time you were comfortable to branch out and make new friends, it was too late. You two were infatuated with one another. Late at night in his shop when the closed sign was flipped towards the street, he’d share unsold sweets at the bar over swapped childhood stories. You learned all about each other’s shared interests, like photography and sex and running around the city at night under the influence. You guys were magnetic and dated for ten months before you decided it was time to just move in together. Those first few nights together, it was just you, him and a mattress on the floor where you two would talk for hours. There, he found out everything about you from your flaws, to your fears, to your kinks, and your dreams. In return, you learned his favorite memories, and his desires, and old stories from his schooldays.
“I was known for having… crazy, intense eyes. They would call me a demon,” he spoke into your chest one night as you laid naked. “A monster.”
You place your hand under his chin and raise his face to look at you. “That’s not true, Satori. You’re not a monster,” His eyes soften for a moment and a gleam sparks in his eyes - before they harden.
“You don’t know that yet.”
In the two years you’ve been with him, you’ve only ever seen the eyes his old teammates talked about late at night: when your body was trembling under his.
Like now.
“You like when I bruise you?” his hand comes up to cup your jaw in a harsh grip. Your eyes are wide as you look up at him. “Huh?”
“Yesth-“ he shakes your head up and down. “Yes, Shu-Tori.” Your diction slurs as his hand smushes your face.
“Mhm.” Those eyes look into yours as his body covers yours. He reels his hand back and smacks you, hard, on your cheek. “We needed some color in the shot, princess,” He rubs his right hand over while his left-hand reaches over for the camera. “Say cheese,” He aims the camera towards you and jerks your head straight forward by your hair. He looks at the picture as it comes out and flaps it around again. “My pretty princess,” He kisses along your neck and sucks bruises there. “Picture perfect,”
Your head falls to the side as you grant him more room to suck into. He pushes your underwear to the side as he runs his fingers across your slit. Soaking wet. He sucks his digits into his mouth lewdly and leans down to push his boxers down. Saliva gathers in your mouth as you look at him in front of you. “Please,” You ask, leaning forward into him. He hums and pushes your head back, dropping his forehead onto yours softly.
“You wan’ to suck my cock?” He asks.
“Mhm,” You give him pleading eyes as you nod your head. Tendou straightens his back and spits on his cock.
“C’mere, then.”
He drags your head down to his cock and runs his pre-come-covered tip on your lips. You open your mouth and he slips himself along your tongue. He curses under his breath before sinking all the way to the back of your throat. You can feel where his cock tickling your uvula and resist the urge to cough. Against your better judgment, you try to pull your head back. Tendou wraps his hands in your hair and brings you all the way down to the base.
“Fuck.” He hisses through his teeth and starts to drag your mouth back and forth on his cock. “You like that? You fucking whore.” He pulls your head off of him and you cough. “C’mon, baby,” he rubs his hand against your cheek softly while you regain your breath. You nod your head and lean forward to take him back inside. Sucking your cheeks in, you feel more of him sink into your mouth and you groan - making Tendou moan and pitch his hips forward. The first one startled you, and you tried to brace yourself as he kept up his pace of fucking your throat. You feel tears slide down your face as you gag continuously. Your eyes are burning and you have no choice but to shut them. Tendou pinches your nose and you push yourself away from him. You feel the panic rise in your chest until he finally lets go of your nose and you pull back with the tip of his dick still on your tongue as you take a few deep breaths.
Tendou reaches a hand down and frees your breasts from the shirt you’re wearing before he rolls your nipples in his fingers. “You’re so good for me baby,” He groans as you start suckling on his head again. Your eyes slip shut again, tired. You hear Tendou say your name, and when your eyes snap open, there’s a flash. Tendou’s holding the camera up as his cock rests in your throat. “This might be my favorite shot,” He pulls the picture out.
Retracting himself from your mouth, he pushes you back gently onto your back. Your now-soiled underwear is pulled down while Tendou squeezes his cock around the base while he looks down at you. You looked good enough to devour with your flushed, wet face and your half-naked body shaking below him. The fear on your face was enough to make him nearly blow his load all over your pretty, unstuffed cunt.
He lays down and manhandles you in a sitting position over him. “This is how it’s gonna work, m’kay?” He pumps his cock a few times. “You’re gonna take off your dirty little panties and ride my cock like a good little girl,” His slender hand reaches over for the discarded camera. “And I’m gonna take pictures of how slutty you look while you do.” He faces the camera towards you and you prepare yourself for the next hour as you pull your ruined undies down your thighs.
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late valentine’s day - haikyuu!
warnings: explicit content
gala days [masterlist]
holy fucking onigiri! 500 followers, that’s a mad thing. thank you so much! its white day today, i’ll try to whip up something special for you guys. thank you again!
miya atsumu
Overstimulation
“Well what do we have here, doll?”you jumped in surprise and you freeze in your spot, leaning on the doorway was your tall boyfriend with a disapproving look on his pretty face. “What did I say about playing with yourself without me, hmm?”he pushes himself off the doorway and walks to the bed, eyes darks like a predator approaching his prey. “Tsumu, I-I!”you couldn’t answer as his hand finds purchase on your neck squeezing tightly, “Such a bad doll, can’t even follow simple rules.”your hands come up to the band of his shorts tugging it down.
“I think you need to be punished. You’re so desperate to cum, I’ll fucking have you cumming all night until you can’t handle it.”his promise has you shivering in delight, he swats your hands away and pushes you down on the bed, he spreads your legs forcibly, running a long digit over you slit and between your folds, playing with your arousal before plunging two of his fingers inside you. He pumps at a steady pace, thumb rubbing circles on your puffy clit, the hand on your neck comes down to pull and pinch your sensitive nipples. Your orgasm coils and you can feel it fast approaching, "Tsumu, Tusmu, Tsumu!"you chant the setter's name, eyes clenching as you let go on his fingers, coating them in your ejaculation. "That's number one."he licks his fingers, tasting your sweet juices, he kneels infront of your core, leaving kisses on your inner thigh before his mouth finds your now overly sensitive clit.
"Ahh Tsumu!"you yelp, you were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, his mouth is mercilessly sucking on the bud and his fingers again find themselves in your cunt and this time he pumps them at a quick pace. The sloshing sounds of your pussy has you clenching your eyes shut in embarrassment. He curls his fingers grazing your sweet spot and it has you seeing stars, your hands weave themselves in his faux blonde hair, tugging at the strands as he pushes you over to the edge, searing white hot pleasure dots your vision.
“Is my doll already fucked out with just my fingers.”he stands to his full height, tapping your drool stained cheeks, he pulls down his shorts revealing his erection, angry red with precum dripping from the tip. His thumb pushes down on your clit again and it has you mewling and clawing his arms, you were sure you couldn’t handle another orgasm as your legs trembled uncontrollably, you’re tripping over your words for him to stop but only to receive a dark chuckle from the tall male.
"Don't even think we're finished."
miya osamu
Food Play Kink
It was a regular date night for you and Osamu, he had some special prepared for the both of you. As soon as you got to his apartment, various smells travel to your nose and god it smelt like heaven. “Is there anything I can do to help babe?”you hug the grey haired male from behind, leaving a soft peck on his shoulder, standing on your tippy toes to peak at what he’s whipping up. “Don’t worry about it kitten, I’m all done. Go sit your pretty ass at the table.”he turns and slaps your ass to the direction of the dinner table. “Samu!”you yelp at the sting to your ass which earns a melodious laugh from your boyfriend, you settle in the table and he serves up the meal, like a true chef his presentation was beautiful. You take a bite and you’re moaning at the mouthwatering flavour, “You’re such a tease kitten.”
After clearing and washing all the dishes, you squeal as Osamu pulls you in his arms and presses a sweet long kiss to your lips, you moan into the kiss as he nips on your bottom lip. Opening your mouth to allow his tongue to dance with yours, his hands travel down from your waist to your ass lifting you up to sit on the newly cleaned kitchen counter. Hands messily fumbling with the buttons of your blouse wanting the material off your body, he roughly rips your skirt and panties in one go, leaving you all bare on the counter. He steps back admiring the sight of your body before leaving you on the counter, you look at him in confusion, he rummages through his fridge before pulling out the chocolates, whipped cream and strawberries.
“Dessert time kitten, I can’t wait to eat you.”he heats up the chocolate for chocolate syrup and you watch as Osamu takes a strawberry dipping into the syrup before eating it. The fucking sight has you mewling for his mouth, he leans to kiss you and you can taste the chocolate strawberries. Pulling away he takes the chocolate syrup and drips it down breasts, the warmth of the syrup brings pleasurable chills down your spine. Moans fall from your lips as he sucks on your chocolate covered tits, “Fuck Samu!”you throw your head back, hands in his grey hair fisting it as he abuses your pink bud. His thumb runs over your clit down to you leaky slit, you thrust your hips up from more friction but he pulls away and feeds you a chocolate strawberry with a cheeky smile on his lips.
He shakes the whipped cream before coating your little clit and drizzling the still warm syrup, he connects his mouth with the now sugared spot, sucking at the little nub. Your legs shake at the sensation drawing such a pornographic moan from your lips, his fingers slip into your opening, fucking you at a rough pace. He pulls away and unbuckles his pants, angry erection slapping firmly against his abs, he kisses you roughly before thrusting up into your weeping hole. “Oh kitten, yah feel too good.”he bites down on your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, tits bouncing at the force egging him to spray more of the whipped cream and sucking it off you.
Your teeth bites down on your lower lip as your orgasm begins to build up, the tight coil forming as his positions himself in an angle that wrecks your poor sweet spot. Your body filled with different sensations, your mind begins to fog as your orgasm racks through you and your body shakes in pleasure. The tight clench of your pussy send Osamu into his own orgasm spilling inside you and filling you up with his cum. “Samu now I’m all sticky.”you pout, he stares at your chocolate covered form and licks his lips before leaving kisses on your stomach, sucking bruises on the chocolaty spots.
“Round two in the shower, kitten”
//
hehe finally the last part to the valentines special, hope yah all enjoyed this little special and i’m mad that it took me so long to post this shit but stuff came up. anyways leave a like and comment, i’ll try to throw up some white day specials hahah. i don’t know but have a great day, jaa ne!
if yah haven’t read the other late valentine’s day special click [masterlist] , it’s under gala days.
all the love xx
#Miya Atsumu#miya x reader#miya atsumu x reader#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#hq miya atsumu#hq miya osamu#miya osamu x y/n#miya osamu x you#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu x y/n#hq headcannons#hq smut#hq x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyu#haikyuu headcannons#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu smut#haikyuu oneshots#haikyu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#x reader#hq miya twins#atsumu smut#osamu smut#inarizaki
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I Know (Rewrite)
Javi Peña x F!Reader
Warnings: Smut, Angstttt more angst than the smut i’m sorry peeps, Language
Word Count: 2.3K+
Summary: The end was always inevitable.
A/N: So in case anyone missed it I decided to delete my old Javi fics (which was only three) and rewrite them. I apologize if this upsets anyone. I will also try to do part two to this like before if y’all would like!
Javier Peña is a walking contradiction sometimes.
Like now, with the way he fucks you. Rough and yet gentle, crude words as he pounds into you followed by a soft praise.
“Fuck look at your pussy, taking my cock like a good girl.”
You respond to it like you do every time, even when you know that this will be it; you knew it the moment he walked through that door, giving you one look before clashing his lips to yours.
“Javi,” you gasp through another powerful thrust. “Javi.”
Javier grips your hips tighter and maneuvers you closer to his hips, panting just as you are; a sheen of sweat covers his chest and his hair is tousled from your fingers, pouty lips pulled back in a snarl, he is one of the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in this world.
Which makes this so much harder. So fucking hard. Tears start to sting at the back of your throat but you swallow them down; you will not ruin this.
“Hey,” Javier slows his thrust to a languid stop, keeping himself deep inside your weeping pussy.
The scrunched lines on his forehead tell you he’s worried—funny, because he knows exactly what he’s doing. So, what is he exactly worried about?
You finally think it’s hitting him. What he’s doing. Coming to terms with the decisions he’s made. Sees right through your façade and realizes just how hurt you are; it’s more than that, much more and if that doesn’t tear him apart too then what was the point of any of this?
It’s not just the sex you’re talking about, either. That’s always a given with the infamous DEA agent Javier Peña and you knew that from the start. It’s how he checks in on you throughout the day, making sure that the dangers that plague him aren’t passed on to you, going farther by making sure your doors and windows are always locked and secured, giving your door handle a jiggle after he leaves and locks it. How one time, when you got sick and tried taking an extra shift at your job, he fought to keep you in bed so you could rest. Or when he would just sit with you in your tiny apartment; comfortable silence, small talk here and there, shoulders brushing against each other in a nervous, unspoken dance.
It’s all the things that make up the definition of love. A sensitive topic for someone like him, so afraid of letting anyone see his true colors, all the love he has stored in him—when he shows even the slightest of it, he runs. You knew that from the beginning, too.
“Let me ride you,” you whimper.
He nods and leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. It’s not enough for you, so you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him back; he lets his body slant perfectly atop yours, cupping your jaw with one hand while steadying your trembling thigh with the other, allowing your tongue to trace gently around the seam of his slightly chapped lips and opening his mouth to your eager tongue.
This may be the last time you’ll ever get to taste him.
The thought makes you whimper, but he takes that as a sound of pleasure and grinds his stiff, thick cock into you, breaking the kiss to let out a low groan. The curls of his pubic hair scrapes against your clit, making your pussy jolt with the much needed attention.
“I got you,” he assures in a soft coo.
You wish that were true for more than this night.
“I got you,” he repeats as he carefully turns the two of you over so he’s lying on his back, keeping your hips connected.
For now.
Looking at him from this angle makes the ache in your chest pulse wildly. Those dark chocolate eyes of his peering up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing yourself, a goddess in the making, the light in his darkness—this is going to destroy you.
“Please,” he begs in a whisper. “Baby. Please?”
He knows.
Placing your hands on his hairless chest for balance, you lift your hips as far up as they can go until his slick red tip hovers just below your puffy folds, and slide back down hard.
“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back.
He keeps his fingers on your hips, digging blunt nails deeper into your flesh with every harsh thrust you give him; he isn’t hitting your g-spot and the drag of his cock against your velvety walls is only enough to teeter you on the edge of an orgasm he’s chasing, but that doesn’t matter to you right now.
What matters is the mewls he lets escape through closed lips, a rumble in his throat that vibrates through you. The intimacy in how close you’re pressed against each other, not an inch of you untouched or unmarked from his hands, or mouth; they’ll be reminders in the coming days.
Then suddenly, as if he was reading your thoughts, he sits up and wraps his arm around your lower back to keep you close, thrusting up into you as you go down, finally hitting that soft spot inside you that curls your toes.
“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes against your mouth. “Always so wet for me, so good to me mgh—” He chokes when you move faster, tugging on the small strands of hair on the nape of his neck. “Shit, princess.”
Javi attaches his mouth to your breast, latching on to your perk nipple and hollows his cheeks; his mustaches scratches your skin and you want to take back any time you ever complained about it. You whine and hold him to your chest, angling your legs to stretch out; the action brings him deeper inside you, bumping against your cervix so hard that there’s definitely tears now.
“Oh fuck,” you cry out, feeling your whole body shiver along with your cunt.
He lets go of your breast with a pop. “Close?” He moans.
You nod. He pulls you down with him, holding the back of your head so that you’re angled with his face—sharing the same breath, noses brushing against each other, tongues flicking out for another quick taste of the other.
The claps of skin against skin echo louder in your bedroom, along with the obscene squelches of his cock slamming into your pussy. The bedframe slams against the wall with every push and pull, and you know that in the morning you’re going to hear it from your very pissed off neighbors; you’ll tell them they won’t have to deal with it anymore.
Javi plants his feet on the bed and starts drilling into you, holding you down so that you have no choice but to take what he gives you. Pointless babbles fill the air, begging for more, give me more than this, more of this.
“Fuck!” You cry out, feeling your pussy spasm around him. “O-o fuck keep going, baby don’t stop.”
Your moans spur him on. “I won’t. Gonna cum deep inside this gorgeous pussy, f-fill you up so that you’re dripping for me.”
Your pussy clenches at the words, earning a strangled gasp as you feel his cock throb. You bury your face in his neck, nipping and sucking at all the spots you know turns him to mush.
“Princess I’m gonna—” Clapclapclapclapclap. “T-touch yourself, let me feel you soak my cock.”
Your eyes squeeze tightly shut and you follow his order, bringing your hand down between your desperate bodies to circle your aching clit.
“Javi,” you preen in his ear. “I’m—”
The rest of your sentence gets stuck in your throat. The coil in your lower stomach is too much to keep a hold of, eliciting a blazing tightness in your core that just snaps under the pressure of his onslaught but you want this to last, fuck you don’t wanna cum now but he’s—shit you can’t breathe, you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t feel anything other than the warmth radiating off him and the clenching of your cunt—
“Yes,” Javier gasps. “That’s it, that’s it baby, just like that.”
Your moans get louder and louder until they turn into screams, and you can no longer hold back and your pussy explodes around him, gushing him in your juices.
“Fuuuuck,” a growl resonates deeply from his chest and hot ropes of cum spurt into you after, and yet he still moves inside you, pushing through the persistent fluttering and the combined fluids of your releases until the sensitivity gets to the both of you.
Your moans mix together into a chorus, dying down with the pace of your thrusts, drawing every bit of your orgasms out as you can. You collapse on his chest, panting heavily; his chest moves quickly, heart beating rapidly and steadily under your ear. He continues to hold your head, lightly scratching your scalp and rubbing your back—if you didn’t know any better, it’d feel like he was staying.
Your eyes start to droop under exhaustion that seeps from more than the physical workout of the night. His fingers slow and curl until they gently rest, holding you—the way he does is comforting, and real.
This. This is what you’re going to keep precious. This is how you’ll choose to remember him after all that anger subsides. The real Javier Peña you know and love.
A few moments and he sighs and pats your hip. You flinch as you lift your hips off him, his cum leaking out of you, some even dripping onto his soft, glistening cock; you ignore it.
You pull the sheet over your naked body as you watch him quickly pull his pants up, forgoing boxers. He reaches across from you where his cigarettes rest on your nightstand, not looking you in the eyes and turning his back to you once he straightens. You expected it, but it doesn’t ease the sting.
The muscles of his back curls deliciously as he curls his hand around the cigarette. The orange gleam of the burning stick glows as he sucks the smoke in, inhaling deeply before exhaling away from you. The smoke curls around his head, slowly disappearing just like he will. You can’t take this anymore.
“Javi,” you finally sit up, struggling to keep your voice from cracking.
“I know,” he interrupts; his voice sounds forced, like he’s struggling himself. “I—I… you know…”
It brings a sudden ignite of fury in you. Now that he’s acknowledging it out in the open, it’s not only the heartbreak that’s been clouding your life, there’s now rage boiling inside you.
How dare he? How dare he take your heart and stomp on it right in front of you and not even have the grace to say sorry? Or make this any less painful for you when it’s his fault. Hisfaulthisfaulthisfault—
“Yeah.” Your voice is, surprisingly, steady. “Just take care of yourself, Javier.”
You see it. The way his face crumbles. You don’t know what he expected.
He says your name, hesitates, then finally makes up his mind.
“Is it okay—fuck never mind.” He waves it off.
You don’t want to ask him what he was going to say—you’re too afraid to, if you’re being honest.
“I’ll always love you, Javi,” your voice trembles with tears. “But if you can’t love me back, if you can’t work with me on this… Javi I can’t let you hurt me like this anymore. It’s not healthy, for either one of us.”
He watches the tears stream down your cheeks with glistening eyes of his own. It creates a stir in your chest, tying your stomach in knots, tightening your throat, knocking all the air out of your lungs; you wouldn’t wish this kind of pain on anyone.
It seems like an eternity of staring at each other. Committing the other’s features to memory, remembering the good that isn’t tainted, shadowed by the agonizing reality he’s created for himself, bled onto you by your own free will.
Silently he gathers the rest of his clothes scattered across your room. He dresses leisurely, and as angry as you are with him you’re grateful for the extra few minutes before he walks out your door for the last time.
When he finishes fastening the last button of his shirt and slides his shoes on you can’t help it. You throw your legs over the bed, not bothering to throw your shirt on and throw yourself in his arms.
“Hmph,” he grunts, nearly doubling over from the unsuspected force.
You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. He hesitates again, but when his arms do wrap themselves around you it’s crushing; you feel the muscles in his arms bulge from how hard he’s hugging you, making it a little hard to breathe but you don’t care. You inhale his cologne, the smell of smoke on his clothes, the shampoo he uses for his hair, the different soap for his body; he’s doing the same, burying his face in your neck as well. You hold each other until it reaches a point that if you don’t let go now, you never will.
Javier’s the first to pull back. Calloused hands cup your cheeks, gives you a glimpse of the torture behind his eyes, and he leans in and presses a final kiss to your forehead; he holds it, keeping his lips still, and something hot and wet trickles down over your eyebrow.
When he walks away he doesn’t look back. His footsteps toe quietly away, followed eventually by the soft thump of your door.
The door handle jiggles and the sob you’ve been holding back breaks free.
Tags: @talesfromtheguild, @absurdthirst, @chews-erotically, @hiwelcometochillys, @legally-a-bastard, @bluengrayfox, @pascaliprincess, @oloreaa, @thisis-theway, @jaynoellef, @ben-is-a-hoe, @hayley-the-comet, @pascalisthepunkest, @kenedyybrooklin, @paintballkid711
#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javi peña x reader#javier peña x you#narcos#pedro pascal#fanfic#mcfreakin-bxtch#javier peña imagines#narcos netflix
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13. “now everyone’s going to know you’re mine.”
Now everyone's going to know you're mine. The first time he said that to her they were seventeen, and he was wrapping his school sweater around her after seeing her shiver across the table from him in the diner after coming inside from a snowstorm.
He'd smiled at her then, so sweet and kind and he had hardly meant anything by it, but she'd tugged the grey cardigan emblazoned with the St. Augustine's Academy for Boys insignia tight around her shoulders and pulled the sleeves up around her hands and it had felt so right that it warmed her down to her bones, even before the waitress could bring them their hot chocolate.
Looking back, it was an insight. Her gift had hardly been honed back then, all fuzzy impressions and flashes of foresight, the occasional glimpse of an angel or ghost or the imprint of evil. But even at seventeen, not knowing what she knows now, her clairvoyance not as sharp and honed as it is now -- she knew that Ed was it for her.
He's called her his so many times since that she struggles to recall particular instances.
They've been home from London for a few hours now. Judy came home about thirty minutes after them, and they ate an early dinner as a family before she was picked up by a friend to go to a Christmas party hosted by the church youth group. It leaves them alone in the house again, giving them their first taste of peace in five days.
And for some reason, Lorraine can't stop thinking about that afternoon in the diner, and how soft his sweater had felt wrapped around her. How right it felt to be his. To know that he considered her his to protect, his to take care of, his to cherish.
Does Ed understand that she feels that way about him? Truly? Does he understand how it felt for her to see him on that windowsill, moments away from falling to his death?
Does he understand that he is hers?
They're both exhausted, bodies caught between two time zones. Ed doesn't complain, doesn't say much of anything when she leads him upstairs early.
"I missed you," she says, before licking into his mouth once they've made it to their bedroom.
His brow furrows in confusion, and she knows he's going say something like but I didn't go anywhere, something like I didn't give you any time to, something like you did say you'd give me something to look forward to. She cuts him off instead, slanting their lips against each other before making quick work of getting their clothes off and tumbling him onto the bed.
Face open and adoring, he watches her as she settles herself on top of him, holding her waist for her as she lines him up to entrance and sinks down.
He's happy to let her set the pace she wants, happy to let her lace their fingers together as she rolls her hips into his, happy to just lay back and watch and tell her how much he loves her, how beautiful she is, how good she makes him feel.
It's too much -- keeping their fingers threaded, she leans forward, stretching her arms over his shoulders so that his hands are pinned above his head, and buries her face in his throat. But even still, even with him entirely at her mercy, she takes and he gives, encouraging her to bring her knees in to his waist and tuck her feet against his thighs and keep using him to get herself off.
Eventually the angle of their joining and his voice, low and thick with desire in her ear, does her in and she bites down on his neck and shivers, coming almost silently.
Sitting up, feeling almost lightheaded and a little disoriented, she trails a hand up and down his chest.
"Your turn," she murmurs, starting to move again.
Gently, he collects her hand off his chest, bringing it to his mouth before touching it to his neck, where she can already see a bruise beginning to form.
"Now everyone's gonna know I'm yours," he says, so softly she could weep.
Blinking back tears, she nods.
#ask#anonymous#the conjuring#ed warren#lorraine warren#otp: i forgot my pills#fic#otp#emily watches the conjuring#well this got weird!#post-tc2 ofc
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Dangerous and Divine - Part 7
Billy Russo x Reader
Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.
A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & some lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral between consenting adults, some stalking behaviour. Some drinking & swearing.
(My GIF)
It could have some bearing on the case, she thought, trying to justify this course of action to herself.
She ignored that other little voice in her head which said to her that she was just plain jealous.
Madani’s heels clicked briskly along the corridor and once she turned into her office, she back-heeled the door closed.
She’d come into the office earlier than usual, as she knew deep down that she’d no real justification for using Homeland resources to find out whatever information she could on Billy’s little lady friend.
Her re-usable coffee cup hit the desk with a small bang, her bag got dropped onto the floor and she shoved it further to one side with her foot. She sat down at her desk and switched on her laptop, then quickly signed in and navigated to one of Homeland’s most comprehensive databases, aka WESL. Federal agencies did love their acronyms. This one was actually a little in-joke within her agency; it was pronounced ‘weasel’ and the letters stood for Where Everyone’s Shit Lives. You could find out just about anything about anyone in there.
Madani didn’t know the woman’s name but that wouldn’t stop her. Breadcrumbs, a little trail of breadcrumbs - she’d follow that trail until she tracked her down. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she typed in the name and address of the café in Chelsea. That led to the parent company, and she thought at first she might have to dig through all the company data to find a personnel list.
But no such data-mining was necessary. There on the very first page of company details was a photograph of the CEO. Madani leant back in her chair and took a sip of her almost-cold coffee, staring - no, glaring - at the photo and taking in every detail.
Well, well, well. Not a waitress then.
She cut and pasted the woman’s name into another part of the database, and hit Search. It listed up a whole string of links, and Madani started scrolling through all the minute details of her life, including each of her social media accounts.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Billy woke you early the next morning with a coffee and several croissants he’d swiped the previous evening from your café, and which he’d warmed through under the grill. “Hey!” you yawned, “I’m the only one who gets to eat my profits!” (This was one of your favourite sayings, mainly because that’s exactly what you did. Not to a huge extent, but still.)
He grinned down at you, “No, I am too! - due to my privileged position.” You got up, heading to the bathroom, saying, “And what would that be, then?” but you had a feeling you already knew the answer you were going to hear. “Your boyfriend!” yelled Billy, as you disappeared down the corridor, laughing at him.
You were also thinking that it hadn’t taken him long to get back into that particular stride. The two of you had spent the entire previous evening having unhurried, sensual make-up sex. He’d been very tender with you, eyes soft, stroking your face and kissing you gently, whispering that you didn’t know how happy you’d made him by giving him another chance. However your legs and back were still aching a bit from some of the gymnastic poses Billy had put you into while pleasuring you beyond belief. You were sure you’d nearly blacked out during one of your several orgasms.
Returning somewhat refreshed, you joined him back in bed and lazed for a little while, watching TV and drinking your coffee and eating your croissant. He’d apologised about the coffee, grinning and saying he knew it wasn’t up to your high standards, but it was the best he could do with his humble little countertop coffee machine. But you’d assured him it was perfectly drinkable, adding that he obviously hadn’t noticed it was the same one you had at home. He’d looked extremely pleased with himself, like a little kid who’d got a gold star at kindergarten. Adorable, in other words.
Deciding that you weren’t going to rush into work that morning, you’d glanced over at Billy at one point, watching him watching TV as he lay on his back, when you noticed that the sheet lying across him had its own version of the Great Pyramid sitting proudly above a certain part of his anatomy. Deciding that this looked like it needed exploring, you ran your hand down his chest onto his stomach then on under the sheet, finding an alert and interested cock, it being very much up and about already. You wrapped your hand around it and gave it a very firm stroke.
Billy gave a low groan when you touched him, sliding his hand over yours on top of the sheet. His feet went flat on the mattress, knees moving up into the air, and he opened his legs to let you cup his balls with your other hand, while you laid your head on his chest. His eyes sparkled at you as you looked up at him, “Whatcha doin’ down there, angel?” he grinned. “Exploring,” you replied, before whipping back the sheet and fastening your lips around his tip. His body went rigid, “Ohhhh!” spilling out of his mouth in surprise. He’d gone down on you numerous times, but suddenly you realised that you hadn’t returned the favour... until now.
You began to lick and suck on him, tongue running up and down his length before swirling back round his tip, adding in little kitten licks and kisses before sucking him off in earnest. You felt his hips starting to give small involuntary thrusts, and you gave his balls a firm massage in your palm. He moaned, long and low, a hand going to the back of your head. His tip grazed the back of your throat but somehow you managed not to gag, then angled your head slightly to take him in even deeper.
By now, Billy was very gently fucking upwards into your mouth, hands gripping the bunched-up sheets, head thrown back with his eyes squeezed shut, then craning up off the pillows to watch you working him, his eyes wide and wild. You pulled back momentarily, taking a deep breath while running your thumb firstly over his tip, then over his slit which was seriously weeping precum, before returning your mouth to his cock. “Oh, fuck,” he ground out as you did so, followed by your name in a long-drawn out whisper. You felt him suddenly tense up, the warmth of his come in your mouth and throat; greedily you swallowed it all up, savouring his salty taste.
You moved your mouth away and slowly licked him a few times as he softened, before delicately wiping your lips with a finger. Billy lay back on the pillows, huffing out little breaths, his dark chocolate eyes finding yours and a big grin appearing on his face. “Damn... you truly are a goddess.” You regally inclined your head, smiling, “Of course I am, lover boy.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Billy dropped you off at Chelsea later that morning, before heading off to Anvil.
On the drive over there, figuring it was better to quiz him in the car - hopefully less confrontational - you’d very neutrally asked him if he had to see Madani that day. He’d sighed, running a hand through his hair and saying, “Yeah, angel, I do. She’s not gonna be pleased - I ran out on her, left her sitting in the restaurant on her own.”
“Such a shame. I really feel for her,” you muttered, sulkily. He burst out laughing, “Are you jealous?” You looked across at him, deciding to be be honest about your feelings for once, “You know what, Billy? Yes, I am... I don’t like it that you’re going to go crawling back to her. Making all sweet and nice and flirty again with another woman. Why would I be OK with that?” You crossed your arms in front of you, annoyingly you just knew you were pouting, “There you go. I’m jealous. Happy now?”
Looking across at you and chuckling, he said, “Yeah, I am! Look, firstly, gotta admit I love that you’re jealous and told me you are. Means you can’t deny you’ve got feelings for me, angel! Secondly, you truly don’t need to be jealous. I’ll be polite and friendly towards her, nothing more - no more flirting and absolutely no more kissing.” His hand found its way to your thigh and gave a couple of little squeezes, as he told you in a low, sexy voice, “You know that I only have eyes for you. You know I only want you. You’re my girl,” before grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.
He’d leant over and kissed you passionately, grabbing you back for more as you made to leave the car.
As you were crossing the street, you realised you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Shit. Oh well. You pulled your jacket closed at your neck and went inside the café. Waving a hand and calling out your usual greeting, you hurried upstairs and disappeared into your office. Luckily, you had a selection of clothes stashed up there, for just such an occasion. After changing into a pale pink shirt, black jeans and pale pink Converse, you felt much more able to face the day. Hopefully no-one would notice your clothes had miraculously changed since you’d arrived.
You were wading through a pile of paperwork when a discrepancy you’d noticed yesterday on a delivery note popped into your mind, to do with a recent shipment of coffee beans. You’d meant to check with Jake about it at the time, but had forgotten due to all the Billy stressing you’d been doing. So you made your way downstairs to go through it with him now.
The two of you had been running through the delivered stock vs the delivery note numbers, and as you were counting a stack of coffee bean bags, noticed a woman sitting over by the window with her back to you. It was her hair which had caught your attention. Looked like the same colour and style as the woman in the restaurant with Billy. You frowned, no it couldn’t be.
Then she’d turned her head slightly to watch as a monster truck drove by the café, and you were suddenly sure it was her. You took a deep breath, okay - this was weird. You went back to where Jake was standing, “Hey, did you happen to notice when that woman over there came in?” He tilted his head past yours to look at her, “Uhhh, maybe 10 minutes ago? Why, d’you know her or something?” You shook your head, “No, just thought I saw her in the restaurant Karen and I went to for lunch yesterday. Seems a bit strange she’d turn up here today,” you shrugged, “but it’s probably not her.”
You returned to your mini-stocktake and the next time you looked her way, she’d gone.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Madani arrived back at the office and the first person she spotted was Billy Russo, talking and laughing with Sam. She smirked to herself, wonder what he’d do if he knew she’d just dropped in on his ‘lady friend’. He saw her, his face became serious, and she jerked her head towards her office.
He strolled in behind her, all tall dark handsomeness, and she had to take a couple of deep breaths to stay composed as she turned towards him. Really fucking gorgeous, she thought, looking at him. Which made her anger and jealousy bubble up again, knowing that he’d probably been stringing her along all the time. And she’d decided to call him out on it.
“Russo,” she said in a harsh tone, sitting down at her desk. He also sat down, across from her, and began, “Look, sorry about yesterday....” She slapped her hand down on the desk, making him jump very slightly and stop speaking. “You don’t have to explain, I’ve figured it out for myself.” An eyebrow quirking up at her, “And just what have you figured out, Dinah?”
Triumphantly, she said one thing - his lady friend’s name, and was rewarded by seeing some colour drain from his face. Then his expression hardened and he stood up, walking over to her bookshelf and leaning on it, looking over at her. “And? What’s your point?”
She laughed, “Well, I followed you yesterday when you headed out to Chelsea.” He looked surprised. “Saw you leaving with her and taking her back to your place,” she went on. “Looked her up this morning, huh... not a waitress as I first thought.” His mouth pulled into a tight line, “No, she certainly isn’t,” he bit out.
She stood and walked right up to him, too close for comfort but he had nowhere to go. Gazing right into his eyes, she asked, “Does she know we kissed, Billy? Were maybe about to take it further than that? Huh?”
He stared at her, “Yeah, she does.” She smirked, “And how does she feel about that? Take it she saw us in the restaurant. How happy about us is she?” She felt a momentary spark of hope in her chest, maybe he’d told the woman about this last night and she’d told him to take a hike.
He stood up straight, “Dinah... there is no ‘we’, there is no ‘us’. It was all just a little harmless flirting between co-workers.” Moving towards the door, he turned back to her, “We need to get our concentration back onto the case.”
Then his face softened a little, “And I’m sorry if I made you think it was anything else, but it isn’t. I only met her a few days ago, but we’re already in a relationship. It’s serious.” Her mouth dropped open before it changed into a sneer, “A relationship? You? Since when do you do relationships!”
“Since I met her, Dinah,” he said simply, and left her office, closing the door behind him.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
By mid-afternoon, Madani was ready to get out of the office. Her attention span had been all over the place, and she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything much. All she could think about was the Russo situation. She couldn’t believe it, she really couldn’t.
She was sure he’d felt much more than just ‘harmless flirting’ for her, as he’d claimed earlier. Ridiculous! How dare he try and flip it off as some passing fancy - which had now fully passed, according to him.
Half an hour later, she was parking her SUV in Chelsea again. She sat and thought about the woman inside the café across the road for a few minutes. Russo had claimed that while he’d only been seeing her for a few days, he’d told her all about the two of them. But he could easily be lying. What if he’d been seeing his so-called ‘new’ lady for a lot longer, all the while flirting with her and taking her out on dates? Because that’s what they were, in her head. How could any girlfriend just accept all that and carry on as if it meant nothing?
She just couldn’t leave it alone. And she was going to find out if she did know about all the flirting, the lunches, the drinks after work, the kiss. One way or another. She opened her car door, got out and locked it, before crossing over and walking towards the café.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane
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best years
jeon jeongguk / reader
genre: best friend au, bff-to-lovers au, fluff, angst, guk is pining
rating: general
words: 2.6k
warnings: its a short little fic, sort of like one chunk of a big chocolate bar and im gonna slowly feed u one chunk at a time until you’re sick and full
a/n: a squint into the mind of bff jeongguk who will star in an eventual “idol best friend” series that i routinely dream about but have always felt it disrespectful to write about but at the end of the day everything i write is fiction and jeongguk would probably be less offended by a “canon divergence bff au” than he would reading my drug addicted rockstar au so :-) read it & weep folks
Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.
Jeongguk was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that. It was risky taking any step out of his house at any moment, even on the days where it was pouring outside; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the shrubs in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame.
Granted, he’d expected it to be worse as he booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Jeongguk takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face. For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR, and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the member of BTS who didn’t give a damn when the ‘real’ reasons for travel were taken away.
But Jeongguk thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in Manchester, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures. You were at University now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally woke up next to months before. It had been four months since Jeongguk had seen his true best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.
You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.
“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.” Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses rested on the end of his roundish nose. He led Jeongguk out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”
Jeongguk smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”
Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Jeongguk. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road going one way only, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”
That was three minutes ago, but Jeongguk’s still playing that sentence on a loop. He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. A man stands in the doorway, a cigarette out of his mouth and ash dropping to his toes bare in sandals. It smells like doughnuts, and weed, and he smiles brightly. He’s missed the UK, and how unbelievably shockingly awful it is when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of London online.
“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Jeongguk says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”
“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only became a fan three months ago. And yeah, I figured. Finally, I understood why all the white girls studying Korean here wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”
Jeongguk frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy on Twitter when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”
Frank shakes his head and grins at Jeongguk until the words die out. “Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours...it’s kinda like family, you know?”
Jeongguk feels his stomach flip, kind of like butterflies. These butterflies are sour, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Jeongguk is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister. You’ve never been his sister, even when you were part of his family growing up. There were times you came to all of his Korean family events, the times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different to that, you both knew it but never acknowledged it.
Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice, big and pretty-skinned, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Jeongguk remembers looks a lot like your Dad’s back in the day. Might be the same, might be a vintage.
He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Jeongguk, but the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here, he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.
“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”
He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.” He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were fifteen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep hidden and secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left as Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.
Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the 99p store, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Jeongguk manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down. As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person- white walls and a bed set that’s white with a peony pattern. Above your desk, Jeongguk recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at University who Jeongguk always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his neck at a strange angle against the wall your bed is literally attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.
Speaking of which; the Fleetwood Mac song ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Jeongguk hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race. Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and...and, then what?
Maybe you didn’t even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Jeongguk was in Korea and you were still at home, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Jeongguk was burdensome. Worse, maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.
Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.
The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.
“Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”
“No fun,” Jeongguk teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause in the room, and Jeongguk cocks his head with his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him. Suddenly, there’s small but quick thuds across the carpet and Jeongguk feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling as you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.
The grin that reaches Jeongguk’s eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape in his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Jeongguk absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Jeongguk feels it in his stomach.
“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Jeongguk rises up to a sitting position. “What the fuck!”
He laughs out loud, and when you’re next to nothing away, Jeongguk wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, tightly hugging you.
“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.
“Don’t care.”
He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck. Jeongguk smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds Jeongguk of cabbage patch babies.
“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”
“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”
“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jetlag.”
That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jetlag, Jeongguk realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming.
Jeongguk kisses behind your earlobe, and just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Jeongguk was a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this. You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Jeongguk feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8. Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop- it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid's bow.
He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the confusion as he moves the hair that's across your face around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Jeongguk convinces the role of casual to perfection and bites back a sour taste when he notices you’re the same. Casual, unmoved, maybe even like it didn’t mean a thing.
“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.
“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, Guk, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but...Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”
“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean...the guys know I’m here. Hoseok drove me to the airport with Jimin.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Jeongguk sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”
“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. Girls will be girls.”
“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by it-”
“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”
“Was growing it out,” Jeongguk replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”
“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”
“For you,” frowns Jeongguk dramatically.
Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Jeongguk’s underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle. The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Jeongguk even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you. That could be why Jeongguk feels the way that he does, why this confusion wraps around his body and traps him. Jeongguk knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.
Jeongguk knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. JEON JUNGKOOK GOES TO UK TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND...BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT BTS JUNGKOOK IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…
He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s how he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Jeongguk might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant spending one more day with you.
Jeongguk’s got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to Korea with more regrets than he came with, and for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth. Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be known on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Jeongguk doesn’t think it will be worth it.
Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. One tries to escape when you hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease you didn’t mention it. He wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy it.
Fuck.
For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.
It has to be perfect, and he’ll have to be patient.
#jeongguk scenario#jungkook imagine#bts imagine#bts#bts scenario#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jeongguk#jeongguk x reader#jeongguk imagine#jeon jungkook#jjk#jeon jeongguk#bts x reader#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#best friend au#idk what this is its shit
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(Abigail/Hanzo) There was one more stop Abby had to make before leaving for Massachusetts, passing Hanzo's office, she softly knocked on the solemn man's door. "I gave the squadron little hot chocolate kits, I thought it would better... endear me to them. I hope so, anyway. But I didn't forget you." For Hanzo, Abigail got something special. For coffee and its intricacies was an interest of both of them, an Italian and a depressed insomniac. Packaged prettily was a bag of very nice, luxury coffee beans. "I noticed you had a percolator. I feel like you'd appreciate these as much as I do." A gentle smile, and a hand on his upper arm. "Happy Holidays, Commander. Do try to give yourself a little break." (Abby)
Random Inbox Shenanigans || @extraordinarygrrls || always accepting!
💥 || His frail light threatens to dim, and the deepest slumber may be such a tempting ending to this seemingly endless night. Lately, Hanzo Hasashi has been dreaming; Death at his doorstep, asking him, pleading with him, “Why? Why won’t you ever give up so easily? Why do you still choose to exist?” Even when he has been seeing his skin peeling off, his veins bruising underneath his skin, his bones sticking out in irregular angles, and his luscious thick hair thinning out. The void that visits him has been quiet, lest continually following him, watching him fatigue away in exhaustion and seeing the remains of a person, where his office would be one of the rare rooms alighting the bleak darkness of the desert. And amidst the piled paperwork involving the most recent recruitment and their performance in the simulated raid, Commander Hasashi finds himself asking for memories to be both here and gone.
He knows better than anyone what has happened to him, and he wishes to be able to put his story together and have a narrative, knowing who he has been so he can know who he will be in the future when the infernal hell of his memories would not anguish and torment him much less so. He wants to never forget everything, lest he continues to live his life, and be someone that is not afraid to wake and afraid to sleep. Holidays such as Christmas could be the thorny crown for the Commander, for uncried tears may swell beneath his eyes filled with vehemence and severity, as his blemished body, heart, and soul would weep such longing, as dry winter’s spell threaten to violate the domesticated heat of the building. He simply remains evermore still, in solemn concentration, lest his trauma bellows the downpour of nostalgia’s great homesick reminiscence.
All the other families may get together and celebrate each other; but it is always the worst when instead of being celebrated, Hanzo Hasashi has turned himself into something of an effigy. “If you have to make an effort to endear yourself to my squadron, then they must be the one to evaluate their incomplete social construct, because without you in the squadron, Christmas won’t be complete,” after ringing her in and making her settle comfortably in the futon he frequently makes it his makeshift bed, Hanzo looks up from his PC screen with the sense of absoluteness. Relaxing and reflecting is all might need in the time of family gathering, and as another end to a eventful year concludes, but to Hanzo Hasashi, his absolution from his incompetence and incapability won’t ever come; no, not in his time, not in his legacy, and certainly not in his destined fate to serve and protect, lest he erodes and pulverizes himself in the process.
“What I could do to fulfill both of our wishes would be for me to brew a fresh cup of strong brew for each of us,” the cherished muscle memory carries his graceful form to grind the luxury coffee beans, its dark, aromatic swirl would soon fill the entirety of his office. Percolated coffee is the sound of taste, a sound for the aroma. It is a meditation and a plunge into memories and the soul, which offers Hanzo Hasashi’s meditative mundane intimacy. “I hope my present found its way towards my subject all the same.” Offering a reciprocated, yet fleeting smile back at her direction, he hands her the mug, brimming with halo of rich foam, a pinnacle of rich smoothness. His gift to her is a well-kept classical copy of La Divina Commedia, wrapped in a protective box. 💥 ||
#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au)#✗ mutual loneliness filled with togetherness (abigail cain || extraordinarygrrls)#extraordinarygrrls
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Rex/Jon - Jon is a guardian statue is a graveyard, meant to protect the spirits of the dead as they pass on/keep the ground hallowed etc. Rex is visiting a headstone on the regular :( and is like... hey... that statue... moves..? is in different poses? wtf. but like, quite tender b/c Jon can tell Rex for Fact that his loved one may not be Here any longer, but they are Safe and Well. idk this might be a bit sad but I was going for a more comfort / sweet angle. make what you will, if you so choose
Cody calls the statue just inside the gates of the graveyard creepy. Rex has mostly just thought it’s interesting, but—
Maybe he’s starting to see where Cody is coming from.
Stock-still, Rex stares at the figure of the hooded man, frozen in stone. He’s entirely, stone-cold certain that the statue was in front of the mausoleum last weekend, and while he could maybe believe that some industrious groundskeeper had decided to move it, that doesn’t account for its change in position. Which shouldn’t be possible.
And yet, the statue’s hands are loosely clasped today, his head bent over them. Last weekend, he had one raised, palm-up. Rex knows that, because he put a flower in the statue’s palm. One rose, in silent thanks for its watchfulness.
He can't see any trace of the flower, but…there's a stone rose tucked into the hem of the statue’s sleeve, and Rex knows that that wasn’t there even a few days ago.
Maybe, Rex thinks, he’s been visiting Jango's grave for too long. Maybe Cody's right and he should take a break.
He won't, though.
With an aggrieved sigh, Rex scrubs a hand over his short hair, then pulls a violently red lily from the bouquet he’s carrying. Carefully, gently, he tucks it between the statue’s clasped hands, then steps back and says, “Thanks for looking out for them,” because that seems like a safe thing. Pauses, wondering if he should address the moving, but decides he’s probably better off not doing so, and just turns on his heel, making his way down the familiar path towards Jango's grave.
.
The statue isn't standing just past the gates on Rex's next visit. He isn't in front of the mausoleum, either. Rex doesn’t actually find him until after he’s dropped off Jango's flowers and turned away, and—
Well. Maybe he takes a walk through the gravestones just to try to find the statue. But that’s fine. He has nowhere to be, and the fact that he’s curious at all is probably what Kix would call a good sign.
He doesn’t have flowers this time, which he only realizes when he spots the statue standing by a small pond. The man doesn’t have his hands clasped, is standing looking down into the water serenely, but—
There's a stone lily clasped in one hand, a stone rose tucked in the hem of his sleeve.
“I,” Rex says out loud, heartbeat just a little faster than it should be, “have watched way too many Doctor Who marathons for this.”
There's no response from the statue, though.
“Shit,” Rex mutters, but—he’s blinked plenty of times and hasn’t gotten his face eaten yet. This probably isn't any sort of Weeping Angel. And—maybe it’s some kind of joke, though he can't imagine how the stately old groundskeeper is pulling it off. Nico has a sense of humor, but—not that much of one.
Still, even if it is just a joke, Rex feels entirely awkward to have sought the statue out without even a flower for him. A little desperate, he digs into his pockets, and comes up with a wrapped chocolate from lunch. It’s not even very melted.
“Hey,” Rex says, and steps off the path, putting himself right in front of the statue. “Enjoying the water features?” He ducks his head a little, looking up beneath that bowed head, the concealing stone folds of the hood, and thinks he can catch a hint of a scarred mouth, turned up just faintly.
He’s never noticed that the statue was smiling before.
“I guess you are,” Rex says, and refuses to acknowledge that there's something soft in his chest over a statue smiling. Reaching out, he slips the chocolate into the statue’s hand, beside the lily, and then lets his own rest there for a moment. Thinks, like always, of the grave in the corner beneath the tree, and the flowers he just left there, and sighs.
“He was a bit of a bastard,” he says to the statue. “But he was our bastard, you know? I'm not sure how far your whole…keeping watch thing extends, but. I’d appreciate it if you could make sure he’s not going to come back as a ghost and be trapped here for eternity or something. Cody's already neurotic enough about things as it is.”
There's no answer, of course. Rex mutters a curse at himself and pulls back, then firmly turns on his heel and walks away.
He doesn’t look back at the statue, even though he feels the itch of eyes on the back of his neck all the way to the cemetery gates.
.
Rex doesn’t make it to the graveyard until after sunset the next weekend, and even that is close. Nico is at the gates, about to close them, when Rex hurries up, clutching the last bouquet of flowers he was able to buy at the corner store, sad and already drooping.
“Sorry,” Rex says, and feels his heart sink as Nico raises a brow at him. “I just—I’ll leave them really quick and be out of your hair.”
Nico snorts quietly, but opens the gate to let Rex through. “The side door is always open,” he says, tipping his head at it. “Take as much time as you like, and come whenever you’d care to.”
“Thanks,” Rex says, a little bewildered by the allowance. Nico looks like he’d be at least a little rulebound. “But…won't you get in trouble for letting people in after hours?”
“I don’t let people in after hours,” Nico says. “Just you. And you shouldn’t be in danger. Jon likes you.”
Something cold and unsettling slides down Rex's spine. “Jon?” he asks warily.
Nico is already turning away, though, waving a hand. “Avoid the garden,” he says. “Fay still hasn’t decided if you're acceptable.”
“What?” Rex demands, but Nico is gone, heading down the path with quick steps. For a moment, Rex debates chasing after him and demanding answers, but—
He got leave to come into the cemetery whenever he wants, and that’s already a kindness he didn’t expect. Taking a breath, he tells himself that Nico is just…confused, or something, and turns to find Jango's grave.
When he rounds the corner, though, there's already a man sitting beside it.
Rex goes still, staring. A man in a cloak with a deep hood is seated on the grass, turning a bright red lily between his hands. His head is bent, hood pulled back just enough for Rex to see his face, and—
The statue, Rex thinks, bewildered. But—not stone. A living, breathing man, watching Jango's grave, with a lily in his hands and a rose threaded into the hem of his sleeve.
Oh, Rex thinks, and swallows hard.
“You know,” he says, “when I asked you to make sure he didn’t come back, I didn’t mean guard duty. Maybe just an exorcism.”
The statue—the man looks up, and there's that slant to his mouth, a shadow of a smile that makes his scarred face into something kind. “Thank you for the chocolate,” he says, low, soft, and Rex can't resist the urge to smile back.
“I didn’t bring anything today,” he admits. “I thought I was going to miss this visit entirely.”
“Speaking with you is nice,” the man says, not quite meeting Rex's eyes. “I mostly only speak to Nico and Knol and Fay.”
“That means you're Jon?” Rex asks, and lays the flowers in front of the headstone, then takes a seat under the tree, right next to the man.
He nods, folding his hood back all the way. “And you're Rex,” he says softly. “I saw Jango across. He wanted you to know not to spend all your time in front of graves.”
Something in Rex's chest lurches, but he snorts, leaning back on his hands. “He’s a stubborn old man,” he says. “If we didn’t leave flowers, he’d throw a fit.”
Jon ducks his head, hiding the true smile that flickers across his face. “Probably,” he allows. “But you shouldn’t dwell forever.”
“I won't,” Rex says easily, and knows it’s true. “Having the routine is nice, though.” Pausing, he considers, and then smiles a little. “Besides, if I didn’t, I never would have realizes that statues could move.”
“I'm only a statue during the day,” Jon says, faintly defensive. “I'm—guarding.”
Rex weighs his question for a long moment before he asks, “Can you leave?”
Jon hesitates. “Yes,” he finally says, though he doesn’t sound certain about it. “I've never tried, though.”
Tucking that knowledge away for later, Rex gives him a smile. “Do you mind me distracting you?” he asks. “I was thinking I’d start coming after dark, if you don’t mind.”
“No,” Jon says softly, and the way he’s watching Rex is—everything. “I don’t mind.”
“Good,” Rex says, pleased, and leans back beside him, just a handful of inches of space between them in the twilight.
[On AO3]
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A Smile Like the Sun
Category: Mild Romantic Fluff
Fandom: Fairy Tail
Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia
Hey, everyone! :) This here is my submission for Day 7 of NaLu Week, for the prompt “Smile.” Unfortunately, with so many requests and events happening right now, I’m not able to do all the prompts, but I wanted to show just a little love for this adorable couple! Hopefully, I can go back and do the rest. Regardless, enjoy! :D
If Natsu had to choose the thing he loved most about Lucy, it would be her smile.
Natsu had never seen a smile as radiant as hers. It illuminated rooms like a beacon, filling the space to every corner with a warm, gentle light that no darkness could taint. Her smile seemed to be a sun in itself; not only was it bright and radiating, it possessed its own gravity. Natsu would find himself lured in by its magnetic pull. Lucy’s smile embodied everything about the luminous girl that Natsu adored- her kindness, her optimism, her friendliness, her beauty. Yes, Natsu Dragneel loved Lucy Heartfilia’s smile.
That’s why he immediately noticed its absence when he slipped into Lucy’s house to find her morosely lounging on her living room couch. A handful of crumpled tissues were scattered on and around the coffee table. Lucy lay on her back, sniffling despondently as she stared at a tear-stained piece of paper in her hand. Eyebrows knitted together in concern, Natsu walked into the living room and timidly asked, “Lucy? Are you okay?”
The celestial mage jolted into the sitting position and stuffed the paper behind the throw pillows. Laughing amiably, Lucy hastily wiped her tears away with her wrist and smiled at Natsu.
“Of course I am! What’s up?” Natsu hunched down, like a wary cat inspecting a new room. Her smile wasn’t right. The light was dimmed, like a lightbulb flickering in its last moments of life, and rather than a summery bright yellow, its aura was more of a sickly off-white. His green eyes bored intently into her form, taking note of the slouch in her shoulders and the unkempt crimps of her normally brushed and shampooed hair. “N-Natsu? What’s that look on your face for?” she chuckled nervously. She pressed her body into the disarrayed throw pillow where she had hidden the paper, obviously trying to shield it with her body. “I’m okay! Really! It’s just my allergies.”
Natsu’s nose wrinkled as he smelled the nervous sweat blooming on her body.
“You’re lying,” he accused. A pink flush appeared on Lucy’s cheeks, and she shook her head insistently.
“Nuh-uh! I’m perfectly fine, see?” She flashed him that smile again as if to use it at evidence, but it only affirmed Natsu’s suspicions. Lithe and cautious so as not to startle the edgy girl, he crept around the edge of the coffee table with slow, deliberate steps. Lucy fidgeted on the couch, sneaking her hand around the throw pillow. His keen ears heard the parchment wrinkle as she gripped it.
“Lucy… What’s on that piece of paper?”
“Nothing!” she screamed and leaped from the couch to take off toward the hallway, flailing the parchment over her head. Natsu’s nostrils flared as he vaulted over the coffee table to spring in front of the girl. She squeaked and ducked under his arms as he lunged for her, veering off at a ninety-degree angle to flee into the kitchen. “Natsu! Leave me alone!” she wailed as he stormed after her. She scurried behind the kitchen table, heading for the exit to the entryway, but as Natsu came tromping around the other side of the furniture, she squealed and back-tracked. She stopped on the long side of the table while Natsu paused on the other, and they became embroiled in an intense stare-down. Each time Lucy shifted like she was going to flee, he stomped his foot threateningly and lunged in that direction, making her squeak and reconsider her decision.
“Lucy, I am not above climbing on this table!” he warned. He placed a foot on the cushioned seat to emphasize. Lucy cringed and retreated within herself, clutching the letter to her chest.
“What is it gonna take for you to give it a rest?!”
“Tell me what you were cryin’ about!”
“I wasn’t crying!” she protested and clutched the paper further into her bosom, crumpling it up. Natsu growled and stepped up onto the chair, preparing to scramble over the table’s surface. Lucy shrieked as he came shambling on all fours over the wood, but as he snatched for the paper, she shimmied away and took off back into the living room.
“Dammit, Lucy, c’mere!” Natsu roared, hopping off the table to scurry after her. He found her straddling the back of the couch, pushing up the window with one hand and swinging one leg over the windowsill. “Gotcha!” he grinned as he jumped onto the couch cushions and wound a thick arm around her waist.
“Natsu, nooooo!” she whined as he easily flung her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. As he stepped down from the couch, he plucked the paper from her hand. Lucy bleated protests and pounded her fists into his upper back and shoulders; she then fell limp like a fish and groaned when he refused to budge, and just resigned herself to her defeat. Natsu’s leaf-green eyes scanned over the neatly printed letters on the page, a frown deepening on his face with every paragraph he read.
“… You got rejected for a publishing deal?”
Lucy sniffled wretchedly, then nodded with a tiny whimper. Natsu balled up the rejection letter in his hand and tossed it across the room so he wouldn’t have to look at it, because it would only anger him. How dare they reject Lucy? She’s a great writer! He thought haughtily and stamped his foot. He began grumbling under his breath about the publishing company’s incompetence, and for a moment, he was completely oblivious to Lucy. He blinked when he felt her shudder on his shoulder and glanced down between his arm and his body to see tears rolling down her cheeks. “Lucy!”
“That isn’t the first one. Six different companies have rejected my latest manuscript,” Lucy said dolefully. She scraped at her eyes with the heels of her palms, but the tears continued to flow. They beaded on her lashes like dew on grass blades after a morning rain. “I’ve lost my touch… I’m going to be a one-hit-wonder,” she sobbed. Natsu pursed his lips and walked back over to the couch. He fixed the cushion before plopping down, then resituated Lucy so that she was seated on his lap. She straddled him as she miserably wiped at her face, openly weeping and crying out in shame. “What do I do, Natsu?”
“Listen to me,” he grunted and grabbed both her wrists. Lucy offered no resistance as he pulled them down to rest on her thighs. Leaving them there, he cupped her face and swept his thumbs over her cheekbones to catch the tears still rolling over them. “You are not going to be a one-hit-wonder. Your stories are amazing! So what if those jerks are too blind to see it?” he huffed insistently. “Lucy, you’re going to be a famous author someday with tons and tons of published works under your belt. I know that because my Lucy never gives up.”
Finally, there it was. Lucy’s shaky lips wobbled into a tiny smile, like the first glimpse of the sun after being concealed by roiling gray storm clouds. She giggled, scrunching up her eyes like she always did, and leaned forward a little to lay her hands on his chest.
“You really think so?”
“I know so!” he frowned haughtily. Lucy chuckled again and leaned back, a blush alighting her cheeks. Natsu smiled warmly as that smile he adored so much finally broke out on her face, all teeth and glee. Her warm brown irises barely peeked out of her blonde lashes as she smiled with every ounce of energy in her body. The gloom in the house immediately evaporated, and sunlight streamed in from the open window behind them to bathe the living room in golden light. The natural sun’s glow couldn’t compete with Lucy’s smile, though- it was too warm, too bright, too gorgeous. He reached up to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and she opened her eyes to regard him curiously.
“There it is. I missed it.”
“Missed what?”
“Your smile, Lucy. It lights up the whole world. I’m sad without it.” Lucy blinked, then smiled affectionately. She melted over him, pressing her torso against his and winding her arms around his neck. Natsu was not prepared for such an overtly romantic gesture, and so he reflexively grabbed her hips. She seemed not to mind, for she began twisting the ends of his salmon-colored locks around her index fingers.
“That’s interesting. You wanna know a secret?” Blinking, he nodded. Lucy leaned forward some more, brushing the tip of her nose against his. “Your smile lights up my whole world.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm,” she nodded, cocking her head to the side as her fingers traveled further up his scalp. “I remember it so fondly- when you grabbed my hand, said we were going to Fairy Tail, and gave me the biggest, most beautiful smile.” Natsu, not used to so much overt praise, flushed as pink as his hair. Her chocolate-brown eyes smoldered with an intense heat that rivaled the temperature of his fierce flames, and they fixated intently on his face. Unable to hold Lucy’s searing gaze, Natsu’s green eyes dropped down to her lips. Suddenly, he was gripped by the overwhelming urge to kiss her. The little smile playing over her plump pink lips was simply so inviting; that gravity, stronger than the largest planet in the universe, effortlessly drew him in. He barely realized what he was doing before he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers.
She hummed serenely and relaxed against him. Natsu appreciated how every contour of her plush, pliant body molded so perfectly against his rugged contours. One of his hands swept a swathe of her golden hair away to tuck it behind her ear, while the other migrated to her waist, hugging the divot of her body. She tasted like strawberries with a faint hint of zesty lemons. He kissed her lips once, twice, three times, before pulling back a hair and looking into her eyes.
“What was that for?” she asked teasingly. Natsu flushed pink and looked down meekly.
“I dunno. I just felt like it ‘cuz you’re so gorgeous,” he admitted. Lucy snickered and reclined against him, laying her head on his shoulder and continuing to play with his tufts of soft pink hair. Natsu purred in contentment and nestled back into the couch, wrapped his arms around her lower back. She was so cozy and warm that he was beginning to drift off to sleep.
“Natsu?”
“Hnn?”
“Thank you. I feel much better.” He glanced down at her to find her smiling again, smiling truly like she ought to. He gave her a lopsided smirk and kissed her forehead.
“O’course.”
They drifted off together on the couch, like a couple of lazy house cats snoozing in the sun. However, Natsu’s sun wasn’t hanging in the blue sky outside; no, it lay in his arms. He held her tight to his chest, his Lucy, his bright golden sun and center of his universe.
Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!
Tag List: @nalu-week @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece
#naluweek#naluweek2020#nalu#natsu x lucy#lucy x natsu#natsu dragneel#lucy heartfilia#fairy tail#fairy tail lucy#fairy tail natsu#ft lucy#ft natsu#fairy tail fanfic#fairy tail fanfiction#ft fanfic#ft fanfiction
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Caged
RATING: Explicit
FANDOM: Hunger Games
SHIP: Odesta
WARNINGS: Rape/non-con, drug use, forced sex work
SUMMARY: Annie’s Victory Tour brings her to the Capitol, with Finnick at her side. He did his job as her mentor when he got her out of the arena, but he can’t look after her anymore. All he can do is play the part Snow has given him. It’s almost simple now, posing for the cameras and obeying his patrons, all with a smile on his face. Pretending is so easy that he can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. But Annie might be able to remind him.
Read on AO3
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With his lips closed, Dionysus looks plain by Capitol standards. Pasty skin, undyed and free of tattoos. Short brown hair, black shoes, dark suit. Colorless, except for the trio of yellow tablets in his palm. My throat itches to swallow down the promise they hold, but I have two questions that need answering.
First: “Will I be able to fuck?”
The dealer laughs, revealing a mouth full of gold and gems. “Like a damn rabbit,” Dionysus says.
Second: “I want to feel nothing, but a good nothing. Can this do that?”
Sapphires flash on his eye teeth. “You’ll see nirvana,” he promises.
I don’t know what that is, or where it might be, but any place would be better than this one.
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Red. That’s all I see, at first. Waves and folds of the color spilling down the length of Annie’s skirt. Six feet of fabric fans out behind her, but the top of the dress is spare, sheer wisps that cling to her breasts and shoulders and throat.
“Inspired,” says Sabina. “Her stylist has an eye for drama.”
Her stylist will be lucky to have eyes at all when I’m done with him.
I take a flute of turquoise champagne from a passing Avox’s tray. It tastes like turpentine and sugar, the medicine that District Four mothers force down their children’s sore throats. I drink three glasses in ten minutes. Red still bleeds along the edges of my vision, and no matter where I turn, there’s Annie. Trussed up for Capitol appetites, tribute all over again. When I reach for another glass Sabina touches her too-long nails to my wrist. Tap, tap: bad dog. She kisses me, tongue sour blue slick, and I imagine what a senator’s wife might look like if three weeping mouths opened in the middle of her chest.
Something tugs at my shirt sleeve, jealous but gentle. Annie, drowning in all that District One silk.
“I need you,” she says. Splattered droplets dot her left cheek, a constellation of freckles that shine crimson-wet in the low light.
“Everyone needs me tonight.”
Sabina laughs and Annie pulls away, so I know I've said the wrong thing. That’s what happens when I put pills in my mouth; nothing but mistakes come out.
I say, “Teenage girls,” and give my date a knowing smile. Let her read what she wants into that.
Sabina twines her fingers around my arm and leans in close, smug and conspiratorial. “My daughter’s at that age now. It’s all me, me, me! And they want everything immediately. Nothing pleases them…”
How this is any different from the rest of the Capitol I can’t guess, but I let her go on, nodding and humming my sympathy where appropriate. Oh yes, they’re selfish little brats. Ungrateful, never satisfied. When Sabina pauses to sample a canapé I say how much I hate to leave her for even a moment, but I am Annie’s mentor. Duty calls and all that.
Sabina frowns prettily. “I hope you're this dedicated in all of your pursuits.”
She should know the answer to that already. This isn’t our first date. Still, I feed her a stock innuendo about finishing the things I start.
“Go on then, but be back soon!”
I find my tribute talking to the light crew. A woman with tattooed vines climbing the side of her shaved head shows Annie how to hold a sheet of foil. It’s a clever way to hide from the cameras and I wish I’d thought of it first. Too late for that, because Annie turns her silver shield, and then there’s a lens blinking closer to my well-lit face.
“Perfect,” says Vines. “You’re a natural.”
Annie shakes her head. “No. He’s just an easy target.”
I duck into the bright circle of the light crew’s equipment before the cameras can focus. The heat feels artificial, claustrophobic, like the solar beds my stylist makes me visit. Annie returns the foil to Vines and thanks her for the lesson. I can’t breathe again until there’s ten feet between me and the clicking insect sound of mechanical eyes.
“I thought you were busy,” Annie says. Her voice is so light and casual that, if I didn’t know her, I’d have no idea that she’s annoyed.
“I shouldn't have said that. I didn’t mean it.”
Annie shrugs. “You never mean anything you say in the Capitol.”
Sometimes I forget how much she sees, this girl who’s turned my world upside down in six months. “Where are your tokens?”
Annie grasps at the place over her heart where two sea glass pendants always rest. She looks mildly surprised to catch only empty air between her fingers. “Vibius wouldn’t let me wear them. Said the colors...” She shakes her head, the way you would to get water out of your ears after swimming. “I’m hungry.”
But when I follow her to a banquet table she doesn’t eat a bite. Instead, she stacks gingerbread cubes around a pink chocolate fountain.
“Who’s your date?” she asks.
“Senator Wexler’s wife,” I say.
Annie never looks up, too busy skewering blueberries on toothpicks. She sticks them in the topmost layer of her curtain wall, like heads on neighboring spikes. Two by two by two. Then she says, “Doesn’t the senator mind?”
“Only that he couldn’t come with us.”
Annie tips over the fountain, and chocolate bursts through her gingerbread dam. It creeps along the aisle of white cloth and drips onto the floor. Part of me wants to scold her, because some Avox will have to clean all this up after the party. I don’t, though, because I know how everything shifts after the Games. You might leave the arena, but it comes with you all the same. Alliances replace friendships. Sleep never really comes easy again, because too many things are still awake in the dark. Survival is tangled up with fighting, hurting, killing, and sometimes you need small destructions just to breathe.
“Dance with me,” Annie says.
The train on that fucking dress is longer than she is. “How could I, with you in that?”
I laugh. Everything and nothing seems funny at the same time. Annie jumps a little when I finger one of the slivers of silk covering her chest. Vibius didn’t leave much to the imagination, so I can see the shape of her. Small teardrop breasts, narrow shoulders, long waist. Her nipples peak beneath the fabric.
Somewhere in my periphery a camera flashes.
“Stop,” Annie says, and I want to shake her. That word doesn’t mean anything in this city. A victor should understand the rules by now.
I trace her collarbone. We’re too far away for Sabina to see us, but even if she does it won’t matter. This is what they want me to be.
The preps painted Annie’s lips too, and it makes her look like a working girl. Ripe apple mouth ready to be plucked. If I could I’d spit on a napkin and wipe it all away, same as my mother used to do to get dirt off my face.
She leans into my touch and asks, “Why are you with that woman?”
“Because she can afford my company.”
Annie’s red, red mouth frowns, but I simply smile and step away, tell her to eat something and enjoy the party.
Sabina welcomes me with a soft hello peck to my cheek. I turn it into more, the kind of wet, deep kiss that decent folk back home wouldn’t dream of doing in public. But that’s how I like it, even if I can hear the cameras snapping behind and beside and in front of me. Pretending is so easy that I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.
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These sounds are almost lost beneath the snap of handcuffs closing: footsteps, a full skirt whispering across the floor, the creak of hinges.
The manacles lock around my wrists, pulling my arms taut, stretching until my shoulders lift from the bed and I can feel the blades angling outward. Like clipped wings opening, Sabina said, the first time she bought me. A caged bird poised to take flight. Now she leans forward and bites my neck, just hard enough to mark. It’s always hard enough to mark with Sabina, whether she uses teeth or nails or the back of her hand.
I hear feather-light fabric brushing the carpet, then see something in the gap between door and frame. The briefest flash of red silk. There, then gone.
Sabina strikes me hard on the cheek. Pain vibrates through my jaw and up the side of my face. Stars burst behind my eyes, then in front of them, but I don’t feel distant or dizzy. Everything becomes sharper, brighter. Needles made of sunlight prick my vision, highlighting it all with stinging intensity. If I ever come down I’m going to kill Dionysus for selling me those three little pills the color of daffodils. He promised oblivion but gave me this instead. With every blow the room grows brighter, until all I see is Sabina, haloed in white.
Her mouth closes over me, warm and soft, drawing out all the things I don’t want to give. Then she’s straddling my lap, hands clutching my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. Ten welts spring beneath her touch, bright as pink ribbons down my chest. It’s winter everywhere but between her legs, and there she’s fever hot. Cold snakes down my throat, chokes and burrows inside me until it’s snowing under my skin.
“Finnick,” she hisses. I grip the bedposts and snap my hips up to meet her. I’m shaking from the chill air, the pleasure where a warm body takes mine in and the pain everywhere else. I don’t stop, not until she arches and trembles, mouth open on a whiny cry.
One beat, two, and she climbs off. Leaves me aching, tied up, and filthy while she saunters to the bathroom to refresh herself.
The haze clears, unfreezes, and I remember where I’ve seen red silk tonight.
.
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I scrub until the scratch marks on my chest reopen and the water blushes down the drain, washing away smudged makeup and sweat, fresh blood and Sabina’s come. Not mine, and even though I’m half-hard, I’m mostly thankful. Dates are always worse when a client makes me finish. Steam fills the shower stall, wet and suffocating. Flash-bulbs go off behind my closed eyelids and all I can hear is the endless snapping of camera shutters. I sit on the tile floor, head between my knees, until the water grows cold.
After I get out of the shower and dry off, I pull on the tight blue pants from my date with Sabina and go to Annie’s room. I don’t knock, and when I step inside she jumps. Her dress is curled up in the corner, wilting. All those red folds remind me of a rose, so I turn away. Free of make-up, Annie’s face shines brown and clean. Dark waves fall limply around her cheeks, weighted and damp. By the way she holds the robe over her breasts I can tell she’s not wearing much underneath.
Good. I hope she feels naked. Exposed and vulnerable, like I do.
“You watched us.”
Annie sits on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up close to her body. She whispers an apology I can’t stand to hear.
“Don’t,” I say. She flinches and grasps the sea glass tokens around her neck. Her eyes dart away, focusing on some point along the baseboard.
“Look at me.” I kneel on the floor before her, too close to be ignored. “You didn’t have any trouble looking before.”
The only small mercy I can find is that Annie left before Sabina actually fucked me. But she saw me handcuffed to the bed, and that’s bad enough.
Annie bites her bottom lip, and for a moment all I can see is this same skittish girl, more innocent and less broken, on a different train, blushing under my hands.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “When I saw you leaving with that woman—I didn’t really think, I just wanted to know what was so special about her. So I followed you.”
I thought she wanted to see me, and I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. It’s a good thing that she didn’t want a peep show, that she ran off before she saw the main event. A good thing—but it still pisses me off.
I wrap my hands around her calves and slide down, thumbs grazing the soft skin of her inner ankles.
“Finnick?” Her lips linger on the sound, not quite closing over the question she’s made of my name.
“Open your legs,” I tell her. Because whatever she’s asking, this is the only answer I have to give.
Annie’s breath hitches. She trembles all the way down to her toes, but she’s warm, my girl. I brought her home and that makes Annie mine. She belongs to me in the same way I belong to my sponsors.
When she doesn’t move, I kiss the inside of her right knee, flicking my tongue over a new scar there—a pretty pink thing that’s cropped up since her Games—until her legs shake and unlock. Just as she falls open and willing below the waist, Annie clutches the collar of her robe even more tightly, keeping it closed to me.
Eighteen isn’t so young, I remind myself. Not here, not in this place.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and that’s all I need.
Beads of moisture cling to the dark curls between her legs. She smells like the Capitol, flowers and spun sugar, but when I put my mouth there all I taste is salt and wet and girl. Her hands scramble for purchase, first on the covers, then in my hair, and she pulls with more strength than I expected. Not as sharply as Sabina, but enough to smart. That’s been done to me so many times that I know it means more and now and harder—though by the way Annie’s thumb brushes over my cheek, I think it might also mean please.
No, eighteen isn’t too young for this, but I might be.
I can feel her looking: eyes on me, on my body, on the things I’m doing. Just like before, when she peeked into that bedroom and watched Sabina getting her money’s worth, and it stirs something ugly and angry in the pit of my stomach. So I pull away, let my mouth part from her with a goodbye kiss cruel enough to make her whine and tug on my hair, to say my name again. No question this time, just a soft plea.
I’m sick of being on my knees, and really, there’s no reason I can’t do what I want. No reason at all. When I stand, Annie’s eyes go to my chest, flickering across the stripes Sabina’s fingernails left behind. I strip off my pants, and her gaze lowers, lingers.
Beneath the robe I find her pliant and panting. Skin damp, nipples hard, breath coming fast and shallow. Greedy, grasping, her touch falls with selfish hunger, and in this Annie isn’t unlike my other lovers. Long legs wrap around my waist, anchoring me to her. She’s warm and wet, whimpering in a way that might sound pitiful if it wasn’t making me so hard. I press against her, teasing. Those little mewling noises grow stronger, tighten together into a full-throated moan.
“Have you ever done this before?” I ask.
Annie shakes her head, then says, “Almost, once, but…”
Her eyes go distant, and she’s about to slip away from me. Retreat to some inner place where her district partner still lives and loves, but I’m not going to let her mind wander, not now when our bodies are tangled up together. I kiss her, our first, and that’s so backwards that I almost laugh.
Beneath my mouth Annie takes a deep, gasping breath. Then she peppers kisses everywhere she can reach. My brow, both cheeks, the tip of my nose. My lips, again and again. The curve from shoulder to neck and the hollow between my collarbones. When her quick tongue darts out to trace the shell of my ear, I shudder. The drugs must have finally worn off, because I feel myself warming for the first time tonight. “Finnick,” she whispers. “I love you—”
I can’t stand to hear that, not from Annie. So I kiss her quiet, slip a hand between her thighs, and slide two fingers inside of her.
“You’re wetter than home,” I say, and it’s true. More so when I curl my fingers, beckoning her forward—closer to me, closer to coming. “Were you like this in the ballroom, when I touched you?”
“Yes?” It comes out a question, eager but unsure. Annie’s not fluent in pillow talk, and something about that sends a jolt through me. All at once I want her, need to fuck her like I’ll die if I don’t. Under me she’s subtle curves and rocking warmth. Open legs, cradling my hips as I push inside—and then I feel her. Tight, slick heat, stretched around my cock, gripping me, pulling me in.
Annie whimpers, but whether that sound is pained or pleased I’m not sure, can’t tell and barely care. “Yes,” she says, even though I never asked. Why didn’t I ask?
In the beginning I go gentle and steady. Then I slow our rhythm, stretch out the slide of skin on skin, and tell her to beg. Love me becomes have me, you can have me becomes fuck me.
For a moment all I can feel are handcuffs snapping closed, grabbing fingers and greedy cunt. I’m angry all over again but still aching, and Annie knows, because her hands untangle from my hair and dart down to cover her ears. But I catch her wrists, drag them over her head and let my weight do the rest.
I spread her arms apart, wide as they’ll go. Pinned, she’s a butterfly behind glass, pretty and splayed. Annie must like being caged better than I do, because soon she shivers beneath me, coming and crying at once. Back arched, small breasts thrust forward, toes curled and legs taut; she’s lovely like this and so tight it almost hurts.
On the low tide of our touch she says those three unwanted words, passes them from her mouth to mine like a hard candy secret.
“Don’t,” I say.
The camera loves me too. I’m sick to death of love.
But then my climax creeps up on me, sharp and sweet, and I can’t think anymore. There’s nothing but Annie beneath me, her body tight and wet around mine.
In the soft moment right after, I feel something new. A warmth, quiet and gentle, as Annie looks up at me with heavy-lidded green eyes. That love she promised is raw and open as a wound.
It’s terrifying. And tempting, which is the scariest part of all.
The knot around her throat unties easily, and I take a green sea glass token with me when I go. It’s all she has left of the boy who loved her, who died at her side. Stealing it is cruel, but I don’t do it out of spite or jealousy. The reason is simple: my patrons always pay, and Annie is no exception.
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#odesta#odesta fanfiction#odesta fic#odesta fanfic#finnick odair#annie cresta#thg#hunger games#the hunger games#thg fic
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Sweetening the Deal
I have bigger fics in the works but I managed to whip this up quickly from a concept @emptynarration and I thought of before! It’s just another interpretation of heric because I can’t help myself
Summary: Host invites Eric to see his morbid radio show live. Of course, the shy ego is put off by the horrors he narrates, so perhaps Eric can do something to deter him from committing a crime. It will be one less dead character.
Tags: @alvie-ashgrove @theshysepticeye @verse2wo @juju-on-that-yeet (sorry if you didn’t wanna be tagged ;^;)
Warnings: minor violence (nothing too bad tho)
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“Michelle finds herself wandering aimlessly through the forest. She swears she’s seen this area 50 times already. Or perhaps she hasn’t. Every bit of nature within such a dense place blends together after a while.” Host tilts his head and smiles. His tone reflects his actions well. “Will she ever find her dearest friend with such taxing conditions? It seems like her body is screaming for rest.”
The old tv screens buzz lowly and showcase Host’s story from every angle. He has no use for them, truly, but he likes having a live crowd to see the intricacies of his work. His onlooker today, Eric, watches on with an unsettling pit forming in his stomach. The squeamish crowds always make him enjoy the process more. Makes him know he’s doing a good job with his material.
Someone gave the timid ego a chocolate bar before starting to shut him up as if he is a rowdy dog. Not like Eric wants to interrupt Host while he works, though it gets hard with how badly he feels for the characters. Maybe the others feel bad that the twisted radio host likes to tug him along for private showings of his stories. Well, the chocolate somewhat helps. He tries to focus on the sweetness as tv’s poor audio quality picks up on a desperate cry.
Eric looks up at one of the screens. Host’s character is weeping on her knees, cursing out to the cruel gods that let this happen. Host is no god. He’s simply a man that gets too power-hungry to control himself. Not like this poor character knows. She won’t survive to make it to the second act at this rate.
“Despite the odd and unscripted action,” Host’s tone turns bitter as he digs his nails into the wooden desk, “Michelle forces herself up to continue her search.” One thing he hates: uncooperative characters. A pet peeve that has always been with him even in his past life as Author. “After a minute, she slams her head into a tree because clearly she wants to think irrationally.”
Host takes a minute to cool himself down. Eric flinches in his seat as the character does exactly what Host narrated. The man can control the masses with his narrations. Eric is glad Host seems content to settle with these little stories for now, and that he agrees to not hurt him or any of the other egos. Who knows what will happen if, god forbid, he grows bored of these tales.
“Eventually, after her little episode, she continues on in her search. It seems more like a fruitless task with each passing minute.” Host drums his fingers on the desk as his smooth, calm voice returns. Zero to a hundred just like that. Though, he is growing bored of this slow burn.
Something is moving on one of the screens, and it isn’t the main character. Eric catches glimpses of a shadowy figure dash by one of the lower TVs. Host isn’t phased by it, meaning he knows it's there. This isn’t going to go well. Eric knows he won’t be able to stomach what he has planned, so in a fit of impulse, he decides to try to suggest his own ending.
With a quick motion, Eric stands up and clicks the off button on Host’s microphone; right before Host can narrate again. As quick as that happens, he backs away and chews on his lip. He’s holding what’s left of his candy close to his chest like it will protect him.
It’s quiet for a moment. Host slowly turns around and tilts his head up as if he can look at Eric. “What was that?” He asks in an annoyed voice. Truly, he can’t find himself too mad at the other. Something about that nervousness endears him, but he can’t just have people interrupt his show like that. He has people to entertain! Characters to fuck with!
“Um...” Eric looks down at his feet, “I-I, uh, wanted to suggest something?”
“The Host doesn’t take story suggestions,” he replies, deadpanned. He goes to turn on his microphone again, but Eric catches his hand.
“Please!” He squeaks. “I really, um, r-really want to!”
Host notices how clammy Eric’s hand is. Maybe also how soft and nice it is to hold, but he digresses. That’s something he’ll address another time.
With a loud sigh, Host mutters, “Fine.” He lightly scraps Eric’s knuckles with his nails, which makes the other’s hand twitch in his hold. “Make this worth the Host’s time.”
“I will!” Eric may not have any sort of plan. He hastily takes back his hand and thinks quickly. “Can th-there be a-a happy ending...?”
Host scoffs, “Where’s the fun in that? Boring.”
“B-But you always have, uh, such sad stories! You sh-should, should change it up.” He looks back at the screen and notices the shadow traveling across the screens. Towards the main character. “I-I can give you, um...” his voice becomes quieter, if that is possible, “the rest of this chocolate...?”
Oddly enough, Host pouts a little. “Was Eric not going to share that candy in the first place?” He asks, voice uncharacteristically weak.
“That worked?” Eric blinks but quickly recovers from his shock. He hides the candy behind his back and huffs at Host. “Yeah! I-I only give you this if you, if-if you let her find her friend! An-And get home safely!”
To add to the fire, he breaks off a little piece of chocolate and eats it. “This is really good too. Your loss if you don’t want to accept! I’ll just, just eat this by. My. Self.” He pops another piece in his mouth and gloats about it.
“That’s so mean,” Host says as if he isn’t going to let a monster maim his poor main character. That chocolate did look good. Most likely, Wilford got it from some fancy chocolatier from god knows where. The really rare stuff. Yet, Eric doesn’t budge even with the high stakes in this deal. Host eventually gives up. “Very well then.”
He turns back around and clicks on his microphone. “In a surprising turn of events, Michelle has a feeling of where to go.” The shadowy figure fades away, much to Eric’s relief. “As she expertly traverses the woods, she finds a key. This is no ordinary key, however, as it’s the one she needs to unlock the cage her friend resides in. To add on the unlikely events, her friend is unharmed.”
Eric watches with a smile as the scene plays before him. To think he saved two people’s lives with some candy. Life with the egos is one surprise after another.
“They share a tight embrace as they’re finally reunited. Safe and sound as they should be. Michelle manages to weave them out of the forest, where they find more luck in hitchhiking their way back home. One day, what should have been a nightmare, will become a fun story to tell their friends and family during get-togethers. The end.” It hurts Host to have such a vanilla ending. There are no stakes here. Absolutely no fun to be had in this story. “That, dear listeners, is an impromptu rewrite caused by powers out of the Host’s control. He promises to bring a better, more eventful story next broadcast. May that tale find his listeners in good health. Goodnight.”
The microphone and radio are clicked off. In unison, the TVs switch off, and the buzzing stops. Completely silent.
Host turns around again and extends his hand. “The Host will take his prize now.”
Eric quickly hands him the candy bar with a shy smile. “Thank you...”
With an emotionless hum, Host breaks off a piece of chocolate. As he eats it, a grin appears on his face. “Now that was fun.”
“Wh-What...?”
“Not the story, of course. No, that was painful to describe,” Host exaggerates with a drawn-out sigh. Again, his mood quickly changes into something mischievous. “The way Eric acted. The Host has never seen such a display from him before.”
He breaks off another piece and puts it between Eric’s slightly parted, surprised lips. “Perhaps there is more than the cowardly lion here. Something to definitely look into in the future.”
The sweetness brings Eric out of his trace. He looks up at Host with a worried expression. “Wait... wh-what do you mean ‘l-look into’?”
Host simply ignores him and grabs his arm. “Come along now.” They start walking out of the library. “Eric should eat more than mere candy,” he says as he only eats mere candy for dinner. “There’s lots to explore with this new revelation.”
A shiver is sent down Eric’s spine. He follows the other obediently as his mind swims in worried thoughts. The way Host talks about him and his confidence. Somehow, someway, he managed to become a character in Host’s twisted narrative. All because of some dumb chocolate.
#The Host#eric derekson#eric x host#heric#markiplier#markiplier egos#fanfic#Maybe I'll work with these dynamics more one day
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How The Angle Got It’s Wings
This is a flash fiction writing for a class I am taking. We got a prompt (A creation story involving feathers and string) and this is the story that came out of it. Please enjoy! Creative criticism is always welcome!
“Mama can you tell me a bedtime story, please?” The little girl pleaded as she held onto her mother's hand, looking up at her with big chocolate brown eyes. The mother laughed softly, “Alright I’ll tell you a story, but first let’s get you snuggled up in bed.” After the mother had tucked the little girl snuggly under the sheets and checked to make sure the monster under the bed was comfortable as well, she sat down next to the girl. “What story are you going to tell me tonight? Are you going to tell me how the monster under the bed isn’t evil and protects me or how the world began to turn?” The brown haired girl asked curiously. Laughing quietly the mother said “No, today I’m going to be telling you the story of how the angel got its wings.” The little girl looked at her mother eagerly and waited for her to continue. “Long, long ago, in the world above our own lived a young woman, she was very beautiful and very kind, but she was also very curious. One day as she was taking a walk atop the clouds, they began to tremble and shake beneath her. They shook so violently that they began to fall apart and the girl fell through and tumbled down to the world below, our world.”
“Oh no!” The little girl spoke in a worried tone, “Is she okay?” Her mother smiled “When the woman opened her eyes only to find herself in a strange new place she was terrified. She wanted nothing more than to go home, back to her family and friends and she began to weep. As she wept a white dove came over to her. ‘Miss why are you crying?’ he asked. The girl sniffled and said ‘Oh Mr.Dove I’m crying because I fell from my home in the sky and I have no way to get back. You are very lucky, you know. You have wings and can fly wherever you like, but me, I can’t. I am stuck on the ground.’ The dove thought for a moment ‘If you miss your home so much, maybe I could carry you back up.’ The girl looked at him hopefully, ‘would you really do that?’ she asked. ‘I can try.’ Mr.Dove replied. The dove grabbed hold of the girl and tried to fly her back home, but he found that he wasn’t strong enough. Once again the girl began to weep. ‘I’ll never get back home.’ She cried. ‘I have an idea, but you’ll need to wait here for me.’ He said and the girl agreed and off the dove flew. A few days later he returned with a needle and a string and gave them to the girl. ‘What am I supposed to do with these?’ She asked. ‘Pluck the feathers from me during the day and sow them together, during the night they’ll grow back and the next day you can repeat the process until you have enough feathers to fly.’ He told the girl. The girl did as she was told and began to pluck the feathers from him.
For 364 days she plucked his feathers and sewed them together. On the 365th day she finished and sewed the wings to her back. Together she and the dove walked up to peek of the highest mountain they could find. The girl looked longingly at the sky above. She spread her wings and… Jumped. At first she seemed to just float in the air, but before long she was once again falling through the sky. But God saw her and felt pity. He sent a great gust of wind that filled the feathers with life, the string began to melt and binded the feathers together. The stitches on her back became flesh and bound the wings to her body and up she flew. She danced and twirled in the blue sky and thanked the dove for all of his help. Then she flew away home, promising the dove that she would return everyday and help him watch over the earth and all its creatures, to repay him for his kindness.” The mother finished. The little girl looked up at her with tired, droopy eyes and mumbled “I like that story.” Before drifting off into a peaceful slumber. The mother smiled softly to herself and kissed her child goodnight, before quietly slipping out of the room whispering a ‘sleep well’ into the darkness.
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